Tis it Nobler to Drown or Freeze
by Warpath Grizzly
Summary: When the Russo-Canadian war over the northern ice cap begins, a new nation is created: Arctic. She must merge with either Russia or Canada to survive, but who will it be? Sweet Canada or seductive Russia? Russia/Canada X OC
1. Chapter 1: A Hostile Birth

Canada, Russia, America, England and France were all huddled in a tight circle. Both Canada and Russia held their bloody faces, as the new nation had already torn a strip off them in her creation. Arctic was huddled in a pile of snow, looking up at her family. Her violet eyes, filled with fear, peeked up at them each in turn through her blond, almost white hair. The only way the others knew she was blond was because against the snow, her hair had a tinge of yellow in it.

"So who's gonna raise her?"

America asked. France immediately slapped him upside the head.

"Stay out of this. You think you have a cut because you own Alaska, but I'd see you burn before I gave her over to you. She belongs to Matthieu and Ivan. They will raise her."

Deterred, America shrunk back a bit.

"I vill take her."

Russia said firmly.

"But, she's my daughter too!"

Matthew protested lightly. Ivan's eyes narrowed at the younger nation. He shrunk back, but with a nudge from Francis, he took another stand. His family's support for him was seldom seen (mostly because they could seldom see _him_), and it definitely helped bolster his confidence. He drew himself up to his full height and everyone was a little surprised to see he was actually taller than Alfred, though not by much.

"I'll take her one week, you can take her another."

He said with a new sort of passion. It shocked everyone there but France, who gazed down proudly at his son. It had been more of a command than a question, so the other nations simply nodded. Ivan removed his coat and wrapped it around the girl, lifting her into his arms. She was far too light for someone meant to survive endless winter.

"I vill take her home first. It is closer, and shay vill get hypozermia if shay does not get varm."

The four men glared at him, suspicious and untrusting. Only Alfred was brave (or stupid) enough to test the waters

"Ya know Russia, your English sounds a lot better from the last time we 'hung out'."

Russia's look was one of cold hatred. In the wake of the collapse of the Soviet Union, the United States of America had remained a dominant military power. Russia's chance to hear the egocentric blond scream for mercy in his freezing basement while he beat him senseless had slipped through his grasp. In that moment though, he felt that opportunity coming slowly back within reach…

Sensing the possible and sudden explosion of tension drawing near, England decided it would be a good time to cut in. This day did not need to end in more blood.

"She needs a name. A human one."

Russia turned his cold stare on the short blond, who stared back, a look of indifference gracing his features, emerald eyes similarly unreadable. Russia softened his gaze. Tussling with America and battling England were two very different things; the smaller nation had once been in control of nearly the entire world for centuries simply by mastering the seas. And everyone had just gone along with it. Russia had to admit, he was a little impressed, but just a little. At the Englishman's side, America snorted, pouting. If he were to be forced to stand outside in the frozen north, then he could at least be allowed to have a little fun.

"Blanchette. Little White One."

Francis interjected while wrapping his scarf around his new granddaughter's neck. No one dared challenge him, for the serious look on his face as the oldest among them spoke. Canada sighed the sigh of relief and nearly collapsed in the snow, barely being kept on his feet by his brother. The anger and anxiety that had seeped into his bones was replaced by fatigue, but he had forced himself to stay awake long enough to watch what was possibly the most dangerous being in the world walk away with his daughter…

"Papa?"

Blanchette's voice snapped him from his day dream.

"Ques-qui'll-y a mon Puce?"

"The pain doré is on fire."

She said calmly as Matthew panicked and dropped the pan into the sink, spinning the tap to full blast and dousing the flames in cold water. A hiss and a lot of grey smoke erupted from the cast iron dish.

The pair stared at the ruined food for a moment.

"Pizza?"

Blanchette asked.

"Pizza."

Matthew confirmed with a giggle as he picked up the phone and dialled the local 241.

"Pepe's here!"

She blurted, and ran for the door. She opened the door and flung herself into her grandfather's arms.

"I haven't even knocked yet!"

Francis laughed as he snatched his granddaughter from the freezing air around them.

"Get inside Ma Petite, before you catch cold."

He told her. Inside Matthew was sitting on the couch, looking fondly at the pair through the open door.

"I hate to be a buzz kill, but you're letting the heat out."

Embarrassed, the two came in.

"Blanche, could you please put my scarf in the dryer? Merci ma chère."

Francis handed Blanche the sopping piece of material which she brought promptly to the laundry room. Inside, she stopped and took a deep breath of it. Although it was mostly wet, the dry parts smelt of Francis. It was a comforting scent, somewhere between rich red wine and dewy grass. This was the scarf he had first wrapped around her when she'd been born, and Russia had taken her away. Hesitantly, for she didn't really want to let go, she threw it in the dryer and set it for sensory dry.

She was reminded of that day, lying cold, naked, and in pain on the ice, with five blonds looking down at her. She had been afraid, so afraid. Was she dying? No, she couldn't be, she felt life in her, though it was small. But the life wasn't really _in_ her but _on_ her, all around, for miles and miles, little pinpoints dotting the floating mass of ice that was her. She was so horribly lost and confused...

Wait, the men were talking, but what were they saying? All she heard was the whistling of the wind, the creaking of the ice, and the sloshing of the freezing sea. She looked around; there was no sea to be had, just endless white fields of snow…What was happening to her?

She looked again to the men, they looked angry. Very angry. At her? She could see hatred in their eyes, but it wasn't for her, it was for each other. Suddenly, a coat was placed over her bare frame and she was lifted into the air by the tallest of the blonds. She breathed in his scent, a mix of sunflowers, snow, metal, and blood. She looked up at him, though he wasn't looking back. She had the feeling she should feel afraid, but instead she felt awed and safe since the first time she had woken up. She didn't know how, but she knew this man. She didn't know his name, but she knew for sure it wasn't Father.

More bickering, the air tensing and releasing, and then suddenly…

"Blanchette. Little White One."

She could hear them! More specifically, that deep, silky voice…Who's was it? A scarf was placed around her. It was _his_ scent, she knew, the one that spoke. But he wasn't Mother. She looked at the other blonds. There. He looked so small next to the other men who radiated strength and power. His dark blue eyes reflected fatigue but also a deep sadness. She realised she was being carried away. No, she wanted to go back, she wanted to see that man up close. She was too weak to put up a struggle…

There was a small clank and a tink, catching Blanche's attention again and turning it back to the dryer.

Blanche skipped off to the laundry room and Matthew welcomed his father into his home with a hug. Francis kissed his forehead and sat down beside him on the couch.

"How has she been?"

He asked in a low voice so as not to alert Blanchette she was being talked about.

"She's good, but I get scared every time she goes to Ivan's. Each time she comes back colder, and with another useful skill Ivan has taught her."

"The knowing I'm here before I knock is new."

Francis noted, stroking his constantly stubbled chin.

"I don't know how he's doing it! Every time I ask about it she tells me it's against the rules to speak of it. It's so frustrating."

Matthew sighed and leaned into his father's chest. The wheels in Francis' head began to rotate at an amazing speed.

Knowing Ivan, he was probably training her as he would one of his Spetsnaz units. Why shouldn't he? She would constantly be fighting against invasions by Demark, Norway, Iceland, even America wanted to get his hands on her.

"She'll be fine."

He said reassuringly, though he didn't know if he believed it himself. Ivan had gotten his hands on her first, meaning she was more likely to merge with him. He had attempted to break the bond even slightly by giving Blanche his scarf, to give her his sent, and it had worked. For the time being at least.

"Ummm, Papa? The dryer's on fire."

"Again!"

"What do you mean again!"

Francis roared as he jumped up to follow his son to the laundry room. Yellow flames shot up from the dryer, much to the family's dismay.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!"

Blanche screamed as she batted the flames with her coat. Matthew just screamed incoherently. The two voices were drowned out by the sound of the fire extinguisher.

"You're both pathetic."

Francis said bluntly, though there was humour dancing in his sky blue eyes. Blanche turned her eyes towards her father.

"Pizza?"

Matthew wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or scream, so he settled on a weak smile.

"So this happened before?"

Francis asked, brushing foam from Blanche's face.

"Papa burnt the pain doré this morning."

She said quietly.

"And let me guess, you haven't eaten yet have you."

Francis stated more than asked. The nation sighed as Blanche looked over sadly at her Papa.

"We ordered pizza, but it never came."

Francis rolled his eyes and took it upon himself to clean the laundry room while his son helped Blanchette clean herself up.

"You're coming over to my place for some food, so make sure you get all the soap out of her hair."

He called to them, as the bathroom was just down the hall.

"But Ivan's picking her up today, it's his week with her starting tomorrow."

Matthew yelled back, out of character for the usually quiet nation. Francis could hear the annoyance in his voice. He didn't need reminding that Russia was coming over again to take away his baby girl. Truth was, he couldn't blame Matthew, because he felt the exact same way, and as far as he was concerned, there wasn't any way someone could feel otherwise about Russia.

"If he has a problem with it, he'll have to go through me."

France threatened. Upon hearing this, Blanchette grew quite nervous. Ivan would have no problem going through France. Straight through.

Blanchette had always liked France's house. It wasn't so small that you felt cramped, but it wasn't so big as to have a ton of unnecessary space. The smell of Francis' cooking was wafting all over the house, and soon it became impossible for Blanche to resist. She crept down the stairs, and snuck into the kitchen, stealing a small piece of carrot from the chopping board that France had his back turned to.

"And just what do you think you're doing?"

France asked just as Blanche had reached the door on socked tip-toe. She shoved the carrot piece in her mouth and turned.

"Nothing."

She said, the vegetable pressed against her cheek.

"You know the rules Petite Blanche."

He said tapping his cheek. The young girl sighed but obliged her grandfather with a kiss on the cheek. That was always the rule of the house. If you come into the kitchen, you give the chef a kiss on the cheek. Originally it was to let him know when the kids were in the room, so he would pay extra attention to them, but now it was a challenge to see who could get by unnoticed. No one ever did.

"Supper's just about ready. Vas laver tes mai-"

"FRANCIS!"

The voice that rang through the mansion was strong. More demanding than angry, but powerful none the less.

"Ya Zdes' Ivan!"

Blanchette replied firmly, knowing it was she who was being looked for. France was somewhat stunned at her transformation. Ivan's voice could make even _his_ knees knock together, but it seemed to call up a strength in Blanchette he hadn't expected from her, being Matthew's daughter. He wasn't the fighting sort, he knew that, but perhaps Blanchette had more of Ivan in her than he wanted to admit. The girl dashed forward, knowing the older nation had little patience.

She offered no greeting to him, simply stood at his side, arms at her side, back straight and head held high. As Russia came to a halt in the kitchen, he had almost had to duck to pass through the doorway.

Matthew came running down from the upstairs living room as soon as he heard the booming voice. He skidded to a halt beside his father, only to find Blanche standing at attention beside Ivan.

"Vhy ver you not at home ven I vent?"

He demanded.

"Pepe invited us here to eat when Papa burnt the breakfast."

Blanche explained, still not looking at Russia. The nation nodded, and turned his violet eyes towards Canada.

"Ve vill be goihink then. Here, take zis, Marushka. Your hends vill fall off visout zem."

He said, handing Blanche his leather gloves. She slipped them on, albeit they were much too big. They still held the warmth of Russia's hands. Unbeknown to Arctic, her cheeks flushed red at the feeling of what was left over of Ivan's body heat.

France managed to refrain from showing any discontentment, unfortunately Matthew wasn't so disciplined.

"What gives you the right to barge in here and leave with her! She's not packed!"

He yelled.

"Shay has clothes at my house, now say goodbye to Canada, Marushka."

Ivan said, pulling a spare set of gloves from his pocket. Blanchette crept up to Matthew and Francis and hugged them each in turn.

"At least let me pack her something to eat."

"Don't bother. It vill freeze before it reaches zee end of zee drive."

Russia said, completely shutting Matthew down. He turned and opened the door for Blanchette, and stepped out himself.

"She hasn't eaten all day!"

Francis exclaimed. Russia's cold eyes pierced into the very depths of his soul.

"And whose fault is zat?"

He asked venomously before closing the door on the defeated pair. They both stood there in the kitchen, unmoving, for some time before Matthew sunk to his knees and began sobbing.

Translation Notes:

All the french words here are translated by the writers, so they should be fairly accurate. When it comes to the russian words, we're using a translator as well as putting it into a romanized version, instead of using the russian alphebet to facilitate reading. If you spot any grammar related mistakes in our work, please message us.

Ques-qui'll-Y a mon puce? (French Slang) - What's is it my love? (Puce actually means tic. It's a term of endearment for children.)

Pain Doré (French) - French Toast (Litteraly it translates to golden bread)

Pepe (French Slang) - Grandfather

Ma Petite (French) - My little girl (Petite with the e is indicative of a female person, for a boy it would be Mon Petit)

Merci ma chère (French) - Thank you my dear.

Spetsnaz (Russian) - Russian Special Purpose Regiment (Apparently it's an acronym)

Petite Blanche (French) - Little White Girl (Again, the e at the end of both petite and blanche are indicitive of a female)

Vas laver tes mai- (French) - Go wash your han- (Francis gets cut off before he sais "mains" which is hands.)

Ya Zdes' Ivan (Russian) - I'm coming Ivan

Marushka (Polish) - Little Mary (Marushka is another term of endearment used for children. Technically this version is Polish, however variations of it are used in Russia, Austria, all those countries in that general area)


	2. Chapter 2: The Big Bad Wolf

Prussia was sitting at the kitchen table in his brother's house, staring into his cup of coffee. He had grown quite fond of the stuff after all his time with Canada. The Canadian himself, he knew, was addicted to what Gilbert considered to be a very bitter liquid. Ludwig's coffee was nowhere near as good as Tim Hortons though.

He smiled. It reminded him of that time during the Russo-Canadian years. He had been acting like such a lovesick puppy. He frowned though when he remembered the more intricate details to his having to leave his precious Canada, even for that short time…

Prussia sighed from his spot on Ludwig's couch. He missed Canada. Not just the country but the man. He had been booted out in the middle of the Russo-Canadian Conflict. Matthew had said that he didn't want Gilbert to get hurt. He might be a nation but he was also technically dead, and no one was sure if he would permanently disappear from the world if he received a mortal wound (Canada had considered the disintegration of his body during a missile strike to be a mortal wound).

Wait, something dead can't die again, could it? But he wasn't dead just labelled as such. Then again, his country _was_ gone, dissolved decades and decades ago…Most days Prussia wasn't sure whether he was alive or dead, rather he felt stuck somewhere in between and unable to escape.

He did know, however, that he felt most alive when that shy little blond called Canada was by his side.

In any case, he was sure that Matthew hadn't kicked him out simply to protect him. They had been fighting a lot as the Conflict had progressed. Matthew was angry and stressed because of the war, signs of the battles being waged showing all across his body, and Gilbert had been…well, Gilbert. Dealing with him had already been a stressful job for the Canadian.

Prussia found his mind drifting to this one particularly bad fight. It had been about six in the morning. Walking by Matt's office after just having woken up, he noticed the blond at his desk, head in his hands. He had probably not gotten any sleep that night. It seemed that Matthew rarely went to bed lately; five out of seven nights, Gilbert went to bed alone and similarly woke up alone.

Scooting around behind Mattie, Gil wrapped his arms around the other's waist.

"Goot morning, sunshine."

He whispered into the blonde's ear. This resulted in an irritated growl, not exactly the reaction Gilbert had hoped for.

"Vere you up all night, Maddie?"

Silence. Prussia could feel the annoyance steaming off the younger nation. He looked down and noticed an open and bleeding gash on the inside of Matthew's arm. There had been another firefight during the night…

"Maddhew, ve have to wrap dis up…"

He had moved to touch the Canadian's arm, only to have his hand slapped aside.

"I'm fine, Gilbert."

Canada had said through gritted teeth. He had tried very hard to keep the pain from reaching his voice.

But Prussia wasn't one to give up without a fight. And Matthew's poisonous irritation was starting to infect him, too. He lifted the boy into his arms and walked out into the hallway.

"Ve vill fix your arm and den you shall make me pancakes."

Canada struggled ferociously, causing blood to seep from his open wound down his arm. Prussia held on; he was going to have his way, and it would be better for Matthew anyways. Cooking tended to calm Matt down and could, even temporarily, draw his attention away from the miseries in his life.

"Let go Gilbert! I'm over 400 years old, not 75. I can decide for myself what I will or won't do."

Reluctantly, the Prussian put him down. He didn't want to, but he also didn't want to make things worse between them. He was more worried than angry by this point.

The Canadian gave him a scathing glare as his feet touched the floor once again. Usually Gilbert would find this sexy since Matt rarely ever got angry and he found it endearing when the blond grew some balls every once in a while. But Prussia was left feeling threatened under that gaze. The younger nation might not necessarily be a military superpower, but this didn't deter his fighting spirit, a trait he had witnessed from afar on the battlefields of the First World War. With Canada, it wasn't so much that making him angry would result in a gun being immediately placed to your head to have your brains fly out before your eyes. No, getting him seriously angry would more likely result in his bare hand punching through your chest cavity and pulling out your still beating heart, if he deemed it justifiable.

"I will NOT make you pancakes today, Gilbert. If you haven't noticed, I'm a bit busy trying to fight a war. If you want pancakes _that_ badly, there's a Denny's somewhere around here you can go to. Now leave me be."

And like that, the door to the office had been slammed on Prussia's face.

A week later, Gilbert was on a plane to Germany to stay with his brother until the Conflict was over.

He shook himself from his reverie. He had been back with Matthew for some time now. Neither held a grudge against the other for what happened between them during those difficult years. But Prussia had noticed the new scars that Canada tried so hard to cover up. It made his heart seize up with renewed hatred for that evil bastard Russia. Wasn't it enough that his own body was covered in scars because of that man? No, the sadistic fuck had had to mark up his beloved Matthew as well.

Just as Russia haunted Gilbert's nightmares, so did he haunt Matthew's waking hours. Whenever Blanchette was spending time with Ivan, Matthew just couldn't stop worrying about what he was doing to her (sadly, this had greatly reduced the frequency of their "in-bed adventures"). The "training" she was receiving hadn't been consensual; in fact Matthew opposed it highly. But he wasn't going to speak out against Ivan. Who would really? Even Prussia lost his nerve around the large man.

That's why, as Prussia was visiting his brother to help him deal with internal economic issues in Germany, the albino nearly jumped five feet into the air as a cold and dark presence suddenly invaded his senses. It was _him_.

_But he shouldn't _be _here…_thought Prussia. Delving a little deeper, Gilbert discovered that Russia was some ways away, but still far too close to Berlin for his own comfort. He waited and waited, but the presence faded until it disappeared altogether as the frightening nation crossed the German border with France. Prussia sighed in relief, though his mind was reeling with questions. Why was Russia passing through Germany? The powerful nation was a bit of a hermit and tended to stay in his own country most of the time. Plus, he didn't really have a lot of friends in the Western World to be making house calls.

Prussia waited a bit longer, on edge, before he felt Russia's presence again. This time he crossed Germany heading back towards the east. And there was another nation with him, though it was a small presence that he almost missed. Most healthy nations did not have a presence that small, nor would they, willingly or not, be with Russia. Could it be Blanchette? Most countries hadn't yet acknowledged Blanchette as a proper nation, mainly on the basis that she was just one big chunk of ice floating on the Arctic seas. She was also not an autonomous state.

The two nations exited Germany. But Prussia didn't relax this time. He remembered that it was Friday, and this time it was Russia's turn to have Blanchette for a week. But why wouldn't they have flown straight to Moscow from Toronto? Nations couldn't cross water on foot; they were too attached to the land. They had no choice but to fly or take a boat across the Atlantic, Pacific, and all other oceans and large bodies of water. It would have been far more practical to have stayed on the plane rather than land on the European mainland and walk to Russia. Something was up.

Prussia decided it would be a good time to ask his old buddy Francis if he had any idea why Russia was walking through Europe suddenly. Besides, it was better to start his search for answers as far away from Russia as possible.

* * *

When he had finally reached Francis's home in the Paris suburb of département 78, les Yvelines, he hadn't anticipated the sight before him. Though he had an apartment in the heart of Paris itself, he preferred to visit it only when he was needed by his boss, or after he had taken Arthur out for a "date" (which almost always ended in a night of heavy breathing and deep sleep). In fact, Francis had several homes all over France and Prussia had only been able to find him after checking several others of his (breaking and entering was more of an extracurricular activity than a crime for Prussia).

He had applied this method on the Yvelines house as well. The door had not survived the encounter.

"Francis! Are you arount?" The faint sound of sobbing was carried to Prussia's ears. He knew that sob anywhere.

"CANADA!" He yelled, rushing into the kitchen and embracing the dejected looking youth sitting on the floor. It took a second for Matthew to register the Prussian's presence but it was accepted with a strong hug. Gilbert cradled the boy to him, running his fingers through his hair as Matt continued to cry on his shoulder. The sobs subsided after a few more minutes.

"Gil…" The blond mumbled into his black jacket.

"Shhh, it's okay now, I'm here." Prussia consoled. He looked to France. "Vhat happent?"

"_Russie_ arrived and took Blanchette away." Francis stated simply. There was really nothing else to say.

Matthew felt Prussia tense, though the man continued to treat him as if he were a delicate vase. There was no amount of words in the world in any language to describe Gilbert's wrath towards Russia. When he spoke, his voice was soft but underneath Matt could still hear the sharpness of his hatred for that beast of a man.

"Come on, Maddie. Let's sit on de couch _und_ France can make us some coffee, _ja_?"

Matthew just nodded, a sense of failure weighing down his chest, making it almost impossible to breathe.

* * *

Russia's house loomed over Blanchette the way it always did when she saw it at the beginning of her week with Ivan. She thought she would have gotten used to it by now, but apparently not. The mansion seemed to emit the same intensity that it's owner did, and truth be told, no one got used to Russia, so Blanche supposed the house would naturally be the same way. A snowstorm appeared to be brewing on the horizon but she knew it wouldn't be long before the winds blew the snows in around them. She looked over at the giant of a man; at least he seemed more relaxed now that he was back in his home country.

While they had been crossing through Germany, Ivan's senses had told him that Gilbert was watching him closely. He had to commend the dead nation for being ever vigilant even after losing almost all his power. He had probably already noticed Blanchette's tiny aura and figured out what was happening. He would also likely rush to Canada to find out for himself what had happened, probably only to console the little blond he loved so much. Russia snorted; he had respected the albino…once.

At the door, Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia stood at attention, waiting for the return of the master of the house.

"Welcome home, Russia."

They chimed. Estonia shut the door behind them while Latvia took their coats.

"Make sure ze heat ees on nice and high. Ve vouldn't vant nash Marushka's fingers to fall off during ze night."

The three Baltic nations looked nervously to one another before Estonia gave Latvia a little shove towards Russia.

"Ummm, sir? The storm coming in from the east knocked out the power not long before your arrival. We are running on the back-up generator now."

"…Vhat?"

The look in Russia's eyes was enough to cause instant hyperthermia. Latvia certainly appeared to have been physically affected by Russia's cold stare as he started shaking uncontrollably. Ivan simply rolled his eyes.

"Prepare ze mansion. Get ze fire vood from ze basement. Only poot logs in ze necessary rooms." He bent over to whisper beside Latvia's ear, lowering his voice so Blanche, who was still standing at the entrance way, couldn't hear. "Don't poot any in her room."

Ivan spoke several other orders to the Baltics, but Lithuania wasn't quite listening. He was busy stealing glances at the girl beside his master. She seemed to grow more beautiful with each passing week, not to mention more tempting. He felt as though he was looking at the forbidden fruit, but was suddenly and sharply reminded of the cherubim that guarded it. Liet looked down, but not fast enough. Russia's cold eyes had traced his line of sight back to Blanchette.

"Oh, and zere's some cleaning to be done downstairs in the basement Liet, when you're done all your ozer chores." He said smoothly. The small nation's face dropped like eggs off a plate. The last place anyone wanted to be was in the basement of Russia's mansion. Ivan pushed past Lithuania towards his library, leaving the now terrified nation alone with Blanchette.

"Hey Liet."

The small voice lifted his heart into his throat. How he loved to hear that voice speak, soft like a snow drift. It was hard to believe that she was Russia's daughter. To Lithuania, she seemed far more akin to Canada, though he rarely saw the North American nation, even before the Russo-Canadian Conflict. Her eyes told him otherwise, however; they were just like Ivan's, yet not as cold. She was still too young to have learned about the dark workings of the world they lived in.

He almost forgot that he had to respond.

"Hello _Printsessa_. Can I get you anything?"

His smile was genuine, unlike the one he used around Russia.

"No thanks Liet, I'm just gonna go to my room. Give me a call if you need anything, k?"

She said cheerily. That always managed to catch the nation off guard. Russia never cared for the three Baltic servants like Blanchette seemed to. It was an unaccustomed but welcome kindness, and Liet wouldn't trade that for the world. He blushed and laughed at himself silently as he realised he had probably been standing there looking like an idiot all alone in the front foyer for a good few minutes. _Time to go to work then…_

* * *

Blanchette lay on her bed, headphones stuck in her ears. The base was loud enough that had anyone been in the next room they would have heard the trailing ends of the thumps. Though they did nothing to wake the sleeping girl (something Lithuania always laughed at since even the slightest sound in the large Russian house could wake him from the most pleasant of dreams). When Ivan entered her room he didn't expect to find the girl deep in sleep, though it did present an interesting situation.

He stepped lightly forward, careful not to make a sound, though the music would probably muffle even the loudest thump his boots could make. He took the time to look her over, appreciating the almost white hair that framed her soft face, the porcelain colour of her skin, the slight curving of her hips, even the position she was in (on her back with her legs curled to the right). She certainly was a beautiful girl, nation or not. His fingers ghosted over her knees, up to her stomach and chest. He didn't have to touch her skin to affect her, proof lay in the goose bumps that rose on her flesh under his gloved hand. He knelt down behind her, encircling her face with his hands, again never actually touching her. Her face rose to Ivan's. His breath caressed her lips and her head lifted as she tried to capture whoever's lips she knew to be over her own. Ivan drew back, never letting any part of himself come into contact with her. Her head sank back down as Ivan drew one hand over her neck, down the middle of her chest and back up to her shoulder. He ran his hand over her arm, then back up to her cheek before lifting himself and exiting the room, a smug grin on his face. The game had begun.

Blanchette awoke with a start a few seconds later, when she thought she heard the door to her room close. She shook the thought from her head, as she remembered closing it before she fell asleep. Still, that didn't account for the tingling sensation in her lips, or the wildfire spreading through her body. She felt as though she was melting. Had she done that to herself? She couldn't remember having any dream during her nap. She ran her hand down her arm, trying to replicate the feeling she had just experienced; it wasn't even close. Someone had to have done that to her, and whoever that someone was had extremely talented hands. That was the only clue she had to finding this person, that and the limited amount of people in the mansion at the time. Her eyes narrowed at the door. It would be her challenge to find out who they were. The game had begun.

Lithuania came to the door and knocked lightly. "Miss Arctic, supper will be ready within the hour."

* * *

The grand dining hall's fireplace was ablaze and warm. Blanche sat on the floor with her bowl of stew, nibbling at it slowly and gazing at the intricate carvings beside the fireplace depicting various animals: wolves, foxes, bears, boars, stags The warmth on her skin and the warmth in her belly was her favourite feeling, one she could only get at Ivan's because he was the only one with a fireplace. When she finished, she placed the bowl at her side, propping herself up against the armchair behind her, and stared into the flames. They entranced her, made her weak. She felt her eyes drooping. She was really tired after their voyage, and she still wasn't accustomed to the time zone difference. After all, it hadn't even been half a day since she had left Canada. And the darkness was just so inviting…

_She was comfortable. It was summer in Canada, and she was lying right on the edge of a forest, where the tree line stopped and the beach began. __She recognized gray mountains spreading out behind the trees on the other side of the lake. The water itself looked deep and cool, reflecting the few clouds drifting along in the vast expanse of crystal blue above.__ A cool breeze flew from the lake over her skin, ruffling her clothes and lifting the one curly hair that sprung from the top of her head._

Ivan sat down in the chair behind Blanchette's sleeping form. The light from the fire reflected off the curling hair sticking out from her head, making it take on a golden hue. In fact, all of her normally very pale hair now looked as if it radiated golden light, rather than just reflecting it. Russia smiled; she seemed so angelic just then. Leaning forward, he blew softly on the hair, lifting it just slightly.

_The wind __began to blow more strongly suddenly__, caressing the unruly hair and running its icy fingers over her now flaming skin. How could the little curl be so sensitive to something as odd__ and harmless__ as the wind? __She tried to shrug it off but she couldn't deny the feeling it was giving her…_

Ivan stroked the hair lightly, using feathery touches to bring a blush up to Arctic's cheeks. Her breathing began to get heavier, and a small moan escaped her lips. Russia smirked. This little hair was exactly like the one on Canada, and worked similarly to those of the little Italian twins'. He gave the hair one last long stroke before he let it fall and sat back in the chair, watching the rise and fall of Blanche's shoulders slow as her breathing did. She seemed to slump over a bit, and then she shook herself awake. She looked around, locking eyes with Ivan. The blush was still on her face and her mouth was open slightly. A little shockwave ran through the nation's body at the sight of the flustered girl before him. It was by no means unpleasant.

"How long have you been sitting there, Otets?"

"Cherez nekotore vremya." He responded. His eyes remained expressionless, which severely unnerved her. "You should go to bed, Marushka. We have plenty of work to do tomorrow."

He had said, lifting himself from the chair. She just then realised he was in his pyjamas already.

Blanchette looked up at the man from her place on the floor. He was so much taller than her. Her gaze went from his slippered feet, to his long, sturdy legs. They were like tree trunks, which left her wondering what his torso would be if his legs were trees. In his tank top, she could see the thick frame covered in muscle. His arms were strong also. It was little wonder people feared him. Even with the coat on, he was a formidable figure to deal with. Without it, he was downright threatening. Her eyes traced his face, unaware that he was watching in delight as she inspected him.

He watched her eyes gradually move to capture his own, and a small smile appeared on her face. He held out his hand (which would have no problems crushing her own) to help her hoist herself off the floor. Their fingers lingered for a second, before they dropped their hands in unison.

"Goodnight, Ivan." She said gently. She seemed to glow from the inside, standing there in the light of the fire.

"Horosho spat', Marushka."

He said lightly, and watched her walk up the stairs with one hand on the wooden banister to her room. She didn't look back but Ivan knew she was still blushing. He allowed a slight smile to crack through his usual stony visage, the smile of a wolf on the hunt.

Chills were running through Arctic's body as she collapsed onto her bed, utterly exhausted. She could feel the heat of Ivan's stare on her back the whole way up the stairs, though thankfully her back was turned so he hadn't seen the blush that had risen to her cheeks. She curled up into a ball under her bear fur blanket and drifted into a light sleep, only to have her dreams filled with grinning wolves and dancing flames.

Translation Note:

Russie (French) - Russia

Und (German) - and

Ja (German) - Yes

nash Marushka (Russian) - our Marushka

Printsessa (Russian) - Princess

Otets (Russian) - Father

Cherez nekotore vremya (Russian) - A little while

Horosho spat', Marushka (Russian) - Sleep well Marushka


	3. Chapter 3: The New Contender

Had it been just a degree colder in the room, Blanchette would have sworn she had been dumped outside in the snow. She turned her sleepy eyes to the fireplace that should have still been glowing faintly at this hour, only to find it stone cold and barren. She wrapped the fur blanket around herself a bit tighter. She would need at least two logs to last the rest of the night. Should she go see Ivan or Liet to fix this little inconvenience?

The safer bet was Liet. The kind nation would help her in a situation like this with a smile on his face and a cheery disposition, despite the late hour. Ivan, however, was a different story. He was...unpredictable at any time during his slumber. When she was younger she had gone to Russia in the night because she was thirsty, and he had nearly broken her wrist. The next morning he could remember nothing.

Logically, it made no sense that Blanchette's feet led her right to Ivan's room. Then again she wasn't a logical person. Ivan had taught her to trust her instincts, and if they led her to him, then that was good enough for her. Still, something in her chest tugged at her, both pulling her towards Ivan and trying to push her away.

The moonlight lit Blanchette's way as she pattered down the hall in her slippers, and illuminated her almost albino skin, giving it a silvery glow. She padded her why silently to the door she knew Ivan was sleeping behind.

She pushed the door lightly, creating a crack just large enough for her to see through clearly. The dully burning fire brought promises of warmth to her cold skin. She was suddenly reminded of the fact that like most men, Ivan slept naked. _What was the point of putting on pyjamas then?_ She wondered, slightly irked. Thankfully his blanket covered the part that many of the other nations referred to as Ivan The Terrible. She pushed the door open and moved silently to Ivan's side, stretching out her hand to touch one of his bare shoulders.

"Da lyubov' moya?"

He asked in his native tongue, knowing full well that his words in English would come out as nothing more than garbled nonsense.

"Ivan, I'm cold, Latvia must have forgotten to put some fire wood in my room. Can you give me the keys to the basement so I can get some please?"

The semi sleeping giant responded by tossing the blanket off to the opposite side of the bed, and outstretching his arm. Taken off guard, Blanchette covered her face with her hands, trying to erase the mental image of Ivan naked. After a moment he spoke again.

"I'm vaiting, Marushka."

Taking the hint, she sat down on the bed with her back to Russia, still covering her face. The blush from earlier was apparent, and Russia thought it adorable, even if he could only catch the trailing end of that pinkish hue that disappeared as it reached her ear.

"You're not going to get varm by joost sitting zere. Come closer."

Russia extended his arm and pulled Blanchette to his side, draping the blanket over them both. He shifted to his side and curled his immense body around her. She tensed, fearing what she would feel, but strangely enough the sense of security was the most prominent one. The feeling of Ivan's fingers intertwining with her own and the sound of his steady heart beat was strangely soothing. He shifted once more, casually wrapping his other arm around her and taking hold of her hips. _Of all the places he could have put his arm, he picks there, _Blanchette thought as she struggled with her emotions. Though one thing was certain in her mind: in her little challenge, Ivan was suspect number one.

"Goodnight, Ivan."

"Goodnight, Marushka."

Ivan said lowly, a grin spreading across his face. His plan was a complete success, and although this had merely been a test run. He now knew that if she was cold, she would come to him. Her breathing became slightly more audible, signalling to him that she was in a light sleep. He breathed in her scent, and chuckled. Sunflowers. She smelt of sunflowers.

* * *

It was still dark when Blanchette woke up. The fire had burned itself out but Blanchette was nice and warm under the thick blankets beside Ivan. Who knew that a man representing such an awfully cold country could be so hot? Perhaps using the word 'hot' was a bad idea since it got her thinking about Russia's well-muscled body and immediately set her blushing red like a strawberry. Mmmm, strawberries. Her tummy rumbled as and her innards wrung themselves in hunger. Why had she not eaten before bed? Stew was never filling enough for her! Delicately she lifted Russia's heavy arm from her side and placed it down lightly on the bed.

Slipping her legs off the bed, she fumbled through the dark for her slippers and a sweater. She located her fuzzy lilac-coloured bunny slippers but forgot that she had left her sweater in her room. Her eyes adjusted to the dark and she spotted Russia's huge coat hanging on a peg. Ivan wouldn't notice it was missing if he was asleep. Besides, she would only be gone a few minutes, and she was really hungry and wouldn't be able to go back to sleep before eating something. The house was cold and the kitchen was on the first floor, surely Ivan wouldn't want her to freeze before she got there.

She slipped her arms through the gigantic sleeves which fully covered her hands. The bottom hem of the coat almost touched the ground. In it, Blanchette felt rather small and vulnerable, but she was comforted by the fact that this huge man was around to protect her. She knew that without Russia's, and Canada's, protection, some other more destructive country would have taken over the Arctic with no knowledge on how to preserve her delicate ecosystem. Breathing in his distinct scent, she padded out of the room without a sound.

She moved deftly through the halls and down the stairs until she reached the kitchen. The sound of life in the otherwise silent house reached her ears before she had even set one foot into the room. Blanchette pressed her back against the wall beside the currently motionless swinging door. She pushed it open slightly and peered inside. It was too dark to decipher any features but there definitely was a shadowy figure moving about the kitchen. By the way the figure seemed to know where everything that he wanted was, Blanchette knew that it could only be one of the Baltics who knew Russia's house better than anyone (besides Ivan). She smiled a wicked smile and snuck up behind the form as it searched the lightless fridge for something. _The generator must be dead._

"Boo!"

Blanchette giggled as the man jumped, nearly dropping the milk carton in his hand. He turned around and by his mid-length brown hair and wide emerald eyes, Blanchette recognized him as Lithuania. He looked relieved to find out that it was just Blanchette but his features changed to reflect surprise, probably because she was wearing Russia's coat. _No one_ but Russia wore Russia's coat. He wouldn't even let any of the Baltics wash it, preferring to do his own laundry.

So the sight of the pale girl wearing it so loosely was rare indeed.

"Whatchya doin', Liet?"

She seemed so chipper at two in the morning…

"I…I just got a little hungry and decided to have a bowl of cereal."

"What a coincidence! I'm hungry too."

Her amethyst coloured eyes glittered with mirth.

"Would you like me to make you something, Miss Arctic?"

"No, I'll just have some of your cereal, as long as you don't mind sharing." She said, walking over to the cupboard and opening it. "And don't call me 'Miss Arctic'. It's just Blanchette, alright?"

Though she'd said it as a question, Lithuania knew he wasn't meant to answer.

"Here, let me do it for you."

Their hands reached up and grabbed the bowl at the same time, fingers brushing. They both blushed but neither could tell in the dark. Liet let go; a servant didn't interfere with the decisions of his highers after all.

The two made their own bowls of cereal and sat down perpendicularly to each other at the corner of the table. There they munched in silence and in darkness, every so often the clinking of spoon against bowl ringing clear.

Secretly, Liet had a crush on Arctic. He knew this since the first time he saw her. Latvia, Estonia, and himself had been standing in a neat line in the foyer ready to wait upon their master. They hadn't been prepared for him to walk through the front door carrying a naked girl (who looked far too young for him) wrapped up in his coat. Her violet eyes drifted between being half-open and fully closed. Despite the freezing cold of the tempest outside, neither shivered.

After that there had been much rushing around for the three Baltic nations. They had run to and fro from different rooms until Lithuania finally found himself preparing a guest room that would become Blanchette's. It was just a few rooms away from Russia's. After placing fresh sheets on the bed, Liet was just opening the massive velvet curtains depicting beings from Russian folklore (the Firebird was his favourite) when Ivan walked in with the semi-conscious girl, placing her down lightly on the bed.

"Liet, close ze cur-"

Russia stopped midsentence as the girl, eyes wide, scrambled off the bed to the window, standing beside Lithuania. She was simply staring out at the snow field. Liet noticed her features relax, as if the snow gave her comfort. Lithuania on the other hand had grown quite nervous, trying very hard (with little success) to wipe the image of the naked girl from his mind. The coat had fallen off while she had been struggling to get up off the bed.

Lithuania glanced back at Ivan and from the single nod of his head (wait, had he been smiling?), Liet took it as a sign to open the curtains fully. Luckily, Russia came over and draped his oversized coat around her shoulders, wrapping her up as best he could. Liet concentrated on lowering his semi-erect penis.

"Ze snow ees comforting, da?"

She nodded, and smiled. Lithuania felt as if his spirit was soaring though his heart knocked against his ribs, struggling to be free. He wanted to kiss those smiling lips. But the thought of Russia and what he would do to him quickly sent his mood crushing into the floor.

Getting the feeling that he was supposed to leave, Liet apprehensively exited the room as Russia led the sleepy looking girl to the bed. He waited outside the room patiently. When Russia emerged seconds later, closing the door soundlessly, Liet, suddenly feeling brave, promptly asked the retreating Russian.

"Sir, what shall we call the young miss?"

He paused for a moment, never once turning around.

"You and your brothers shall refer to her as Miss Arctic."

It wasn't until later when he was around to hear Ivan and the girl talking that he learned that her human name was Blanchette.

"_Coucou_, Liet? You still in here?"

Liet was disturbed from his memories by a fist lightly knocking on his forehead.

"Y-yes, _Printsessa_?"

Her smile broadened at the term.

"I asked you what your name was. I've been here this whole time but it feels like I've never really gotten to know you, or your brothers."

When you're a servant, you have no name. You're just 'servant' or 'you.' Yet this girl who had every right to beat him if he even breathed wrong was asking to know his name. She was far too young and innocent for this world.

"Toris. Toris Lorinaitis."

Still smiling, she stuck out her hand.

"Blanchette Braginsky-Williams. A pleasure to meet you, sir."

Tentatively, Liet took her hand and shook it. Her skin was so soft, unmarked by wars and tragedy. His self-control evaporated after that.

Their hands let go at the same time but after that, Blanchette lost all track of what was happening. Passionate lips had been placed against her own unprepared ones. The next thing she knew she was sitting on the table with her legs wrapped around Lithuania's waist, returning his fervent kisses. Suspect number 2: Lithuania.

Wait, Lithuania? She had never thought about him this way, though he was kind of cute, in a sad puppy dog way. The way he has handling her now was definitely enough to change her mind, however. Not rough, just…powerful. He was in control; the fire smouldering in his emerald eyes told her so. Blanchette, usually very independent and in charge, could deal with being submissive for one night, especially if it meant having _this_ Liet around a little longer.

She opened her mouth a bit more, which gave Liet the perfect opportunity to start Frenching her. It was nothing like making out with human boys at parties, that much was certain. Of course, Canada didn't know how she snuck out some weekends, out the window, down the tree, and off through the maze of streets. She wasn't the perfect little angel everyone thought she was, but she had to admit she was a little scared right then. Blanche had never been with anyone like this so…intensively.

Toris felt like his old self again, when he was an unbeatable nation and could easily handle that brat Prussia. That had been centuries ago, before Russia had made him a slave. But tonight he was Lietuva.

Blanchette slid out of the coat and let the fabric pool around her. The cold no longer bothered her and she wanted, _needed_ to get closer to Liet. The intense heat he radiated would have been enough to keep her warm in a blizzard. Her fingers reached up under his shirt, caressing every inch of skin she touched. She hadn't realised before that her hands had been shaking. Suddenly, her fingertips slid over a ridge. Curious, she felt for it and when she found it, she followed the line up until the rest of her fingers were touching similar ridges. Some were thin, others wide, a few were bumpy though most of the ridges were smooth. She traced the lines on his back, it seemed like there were so many. There were even a few lines that dipped into his skin rather than being raised. Old battle scars? Blanche knew that Lithuania had once been a fierce warrior and that all warriors must suffer defeat, but the scars that laced across his back seemed too extreme to have been received in battle.

"Toris…your back…"

As her lips were pried from his, Liet was given time to think since he had begun to act on impulse. He couldn't tell Blanchette that Russia was at fault for the scars, the decades of torture he endured while under Russia's 'care'. Liet suddenly felt rather embarrassed at having them; telling her would almost be like admitting he was weak. It would also be a bit of a turn off. Thinking about the scars caused long buried memories to resurface, all of them containing Ivan doing something horribly painful to him. If Russia caught them like this, what new scars would he have by the end of the week?

But his mind and body weren't clicking. He continued his assault on her lips and slowly began to pull down her pyjama pants, revealing cute little pink panties beneath.

Her brow furrowed. Maybe this was a bit _too_ un-Lithuania like for her to handle. Her heart began to panic but her mind remained quite calm thanks to hours of intense training for stressful situations. She placed her hands on Lithuania's chest and pushed him back without trying to seem rough.

This made Liet snap out of it quite quickly. Oh God, he almost…almost…What was wrong with him?

Blanchette kept her face and eyes even, though she couldn't say the same about her voice. "I…I'm sorry Toris but…You know, it's late and I'm still tired. Maybe it's best if we went back to bed."

Liet shivered pleasantly when she said his name. Yes, they _should_ go back to bed, back to his bed…No, no that won't do. He doubted he would be able to stop a second time, no matter how hard Blanchette tried to shove him off. And if Russia found out…He shivered again, but from ice cold fear. He moved away from her, looking at the floor, anywhere but those tempting amethyst eyes.

"You're right. I'm sorry, I…stepped out of line."

Blanche could see the fear hidden in his eyes, even in the limited light and averted as they were. She didn't fully understand, but it was probably because, well, he was Russia's servant and she was his daughter. And Ivan was _very_ protective of her. Blanchette would probably be spared Russia's wrath, but Lithuania was a different story. She sighed and stood, wrapping the coat around herself once again.

"Do you want me to walk you to your room, Miss Arctic?"

"Blanchette, just Blanchette. And no, I'll be fine. But, thank you."

She stood on tip toes and gave him a tiny peck on the lips, smiling up at him before turning suddenly and leaving without a glance back. She felt like all her emotions had been dumped into a tornado. She was sad that Liet could get in trouble because of her, disappointed that they couldn't go farther, still afraid for if they did, happy to have had this moment with him, and on top of this her heart wouldn't stop pounding and trying to pull her back to him. She ran up the stairs, confused.

Liet was frozen in place for a few moments after the quick kiss. When the spell broke, he collected their dishes and placed them in the sink, cleaning up a bit before heading back to bed, his feelings similarly tangled up in his heart.

Little did either of the two suspect that Russia had been watching the later parts of their time together. He woke up after sensing Blanchette's disappearance and the fact that his coat was gone made him worry; it was his favourite after all. And so Ivan had made his way silently through the house, only to find Blanchette and Lithuania making out on the kitchen table. Luckily for Lithuania, they had stopped before going too far. But there would still be repercussions for the Baltic nation in the morning. Russia smiled gleefully while heading up the stairs, thinking of all the different ways he could punish Liet for his intrusion on Russian property.

* * *

"Canada?"

Prussia called into the empty storage closet. Well, empty of any Canadians though it was filled with a sufficient amount of junk (Canada was a bit of a packrat). It was the fifth room, if you could call it that, which he had checked. He closed the door.

"Oh Canada~, my liddle lof bug, vhere are you?"

After a few more minutes of fruitless searching, Gilbert resolved that Matthew was neither upstairs nor on the ground floor. He couldn't be outside because his coat was still hanging up in the closet, his thick winter boots neatly placed on the mat. There was only one other place he could be.

Gilbert opened the door to the basement and walked down the creaking flight of steps. Once his boots touched the cement floor, he knew exactly in which room Matt was in. Canada only ever came down into the basement for a few specific reasons. Prussia crossed the main room, a sort of second living room, and opened the door to the first room on the right of the hallway.

Sure enough, there was Matthew, sitting on the black couch with huge headphones covering his ears, oblivious to the unmoving eyes of various Canadian actors and musicians scattered about the walls plastered with posters. Whatever colour the room had been before its makeover, Prussia would never know, and he doubted Canada remembered. Even the ceiling had been painted to resemble the blue prairie sky (complete with clouds) and the concrete floor had been (mostly) covered by a paisley carpet from the late 60s, which showed the tell-tale signs of decades worth of use through burn marks and food stains.

The room was a symbol of both escape and torment for the Canadian.

Knocking a few empty beer bottles that were lying carelessly on the floor out of his way, Prussia moved to the couch and sat down beside his beloved Matthew. He could tell by the forlorn expression on Canada's face that the nation was neither drunk nor high, though a bag of weed was sitting on the table just out of reach. It usually took a lot to bring a nation down with alcohol and drugs, far above the fatal doses of humans. Whatever had brought Matthew down to this state was still chewing at him. Prussia lifted the nearest earpiece away from Canada's ear, the sound of the deep, warbling bass beats of dubstep spilling forth, and whispered just loudly enough to be heard over the music.

"Tag, you're it."

The music stopped after Matthew hit the pause button on his iPod, so Gilbert gently grabbed the headphones from both sides and positioned them around the blonde's neck.

"Gil, why am I such a failure?

They had only landed back in Canada an hour ago. Prussia had thought it best if they went home after Russia had taken Blanchette. Matt had still been teetering on the edge of hysterics. The few sips of espresso had calmed him down a bit luckily, but he still needed to feel the security that came with being in your home land. France had been kind enough to loan them a private jet.

By now the depression had sunk in, and Gilbert was glad that they had only needed a few groceries, returning fast enough to keep his lover from turning down a road he'd been on many times before Gilbert had come crashing into his life.

Prussia shifted the younger nation so Matt was leaning against his chest, keeping his arms wrapped around the Canadian.

"You are no failure, Maddie."

Matthew wanted to cry but found he was out of tears. Not a failure? He couldn't even stand up for his daughter in front of Russia, let alone protect her from him. What bothered him even more was how willingly she had gone with Ivan, like she was happier to be spending time with him. This allowed room for only one explanation in Canada's mind: he was a failed parent, and because of this his daughter had abandoned him.

Then again, Russia _was_ a difficult person to stand up to no matter who you were. He emanated this air of intimidation and every nation knew that he would act on his threats without hesitation. Perhaps that was why Blanchette had left so eagerly. She felt, like the rest of them, that she had no choice but to do as Ivan said.

Matthew would be damned if he allowed his baby girl to live in fear like that.

"Gil, what am I going to do?"

That was a hard question to answer. For a nation, there were few options available at a time like this. It was clear that Russia intended to claim all of the Arctic for himself. Matthew figured that Ivan's desire to 'make people one with Mother Russia' stemmed from a deep, psychological trauma after extended periods of isolation and loneliness. Prussia just thought he was a greedy son of a bitch and a sadistic psychopath. Either way, Russia was quite powerful and tended to get what he wanted.

On the other hand, Canada, though doing well economically even with all the military expenditures, didn't quite match Russia's military power and lacked the population numbers to summon a massive army. Sure he had friends in high places, America was his brother and (annoying) neighbour after all, but both Russia and Canada had made an agreement not to draw in allies. If anyone else was going to fight, they would just be another player in the ring, ally or not.

So for now it was just power-hungry Russia versus meek, little Canada. Ivan had already made his first move and now it was Matt's turn.

There really weren't that many choices though. He could stand down and let Ivan take away his little girl, preserving peace at the cost of splitting his heart in two. Or he could fight and win (unlikely) or lose (very likely). Winning meant Ivan would never again be able to get his paws on her. Losing seemed to pose too great a risk; not only could he lose the Arctic entirely but he could lose his life. It didn't seem too unrealistic that Russia would finish him off and claim his land.

Canada sighed. He had come down to the basement to get away from these thoughts, not fuel them. Prussia just kept his mouth closed. Matt already knew what he would have to do when the time came.

"I guess for now, we'll wait a bit longer. Russia knows where the line is drawn and he won't cross it yet, it's still too early for that." Matthew paused. "I suppose you aren't going to let me go back to enjoying 'me' time?"

"Negatif."

"Hmmm, get the handcuffs from the drawer upstairs. I need to get my mind off of…other things."

Gilbert kissed the top of Matthew's head and bounced upstairs happily, returning not even fifteen seconds later.

For the short time his lover was gone, Matt made a silent promise to himself, cold fire steeling his resolve. The next time they met, Russia, and their fellow nations, would no longer see him as "meek, little Matthew" but "strong, proud Canada." It was time to show the world he was not a nation to be fucked with.

* * *

_Damn that minx_. Prussia's hands were cuffed to the top horizontal bar of the head board. He had been positioned in such a way that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't lean down any further to kiss those lips smirking just centimetres from his own. His fingers struggled to grasp Matthew's golden locks but to no avail. Prussia couldn't even thrust into those seemingly delicate piano fingers that teased his lubed up cock since the blonde's other hand was firmly holding onto his hip. He hadn't anticipated that though he was still on top ("no one tops de awesome Prussia"), it was _he_ that was the one being tortured. And oh sweet torture it was. Gilbert gave an uncharacteristic whine as more precum spilled forth.

Matthew's smirk twisted into a feral grin. He loved seeing Gilbert like this. Matt didn't like to admit it but he could be quite sadistic at times. It wasn't rare that during the off-chance he was dominant Prussia came out of it bleeding somewhere, somehow. He never planned for it to happen, it just kind of did. Besides, he would always apologise to Gil the next morning with the best breakfast he could muster.

So he didn't feel so bad when he bit into Prussia's chest, the area already beginning to bruise to dark purple with teeth marks that would stay there for days.

Gilbert grunted and shuddered as Matthew slowly licked the wound. He wasn't normally masochistic but after being with Russia for so long…well, things change. If it had been anyone else besides his Mattie, he probably would have had his fingers wrapped around their neck by now. But it _was_ Matt, and if it was making him feel better, then Gil wouldn't say anything. Plus, Matthew was pretty hot when he looked at him like that, as if he were a piece of meat…

Another bite and Prussia couldn't help but moan as Canada giggled. French toast. Tomorrow he would make French toast especially for the albino.

"Too much, love?"

Prussia could only shake his head. A lie since if Canada kept doing what he was doing, he knew he would be spent within the next few minutes.

Perhaps Matthew had sensed this as Prussia suddenly felt himself pressed against the Canadian's already stretched hole, the hand that had been restraining his hip gone though two hands now rested on his back. Gilbert took this as a green light and thrust himself inside slowly. The heat was instantaneous and his body shouted at him to move again, but his mind told him to wait until the Canadian was ready.

The pain and discomfort Matthew was feeling reminded him how long it had been since Prussia and he had done anything like this, too long apparently. On the plus side, it didn't take him as long to adjust as he thought it would.

"Gilbert…" Matt had half-moaned his name, desire evidently expressed in those two syllables. Prussia obliged by slowly moving in and out. He knew Matthew well enough that it only took him three thrusts to find that special bundle of nerves. Canada screamed in pleasure.

As Prussia intensified the force and speed of his thrusts, so did Matthew's moans and cries of "_Mon Dieu_" or "Yes!" or "Gil…" and other generally unintelligible sounds that were no less arousing than anything else he said. Hell, he could probably say something completely unrelated like "you know, a cat sleeps for about eighteen hours everyday" and Prussia would _still_ find it sexy. It was hard to say no to a voice like Canada's.

Each thrust also caused Canada's nails to dig further into Prussia's back, though the pain wasn't registering with Gilbert. For Matthew, it didn't take long before the pleasure was so intense, his nails had started slipping down the Prussian's back, tearing up skin as they did. Canada made a mental note of making sausages along with the bacon as pressure built up in his vital regions. He needed release and he needed it now. Keeping one hand still on Gilbert's back, Matthew began to pump his cock in unison with his lover's thrusts.

Gilbert tugged at the restraints fiercer than before. He wanted so desperately to touch Matthew's skin, to feel him shiver with bliss under his fingertips. When he noticed Matt reach for his manhood he had wanted nothing more than to do it for him. This was supposed to be Canada's time to relax not do all the work (though Prussia was doing most of the work already). Gil tried to pull free but the handcuffs wouldn't give, bruising the already tender wrists. Fuck, were these things made of titanium?

Looking down into his love's face, Gilbert saw nothing but a visage of pure ecstasy. His curly blond hair was matted with sweat, deep blue eyes the colour of the North Atlantic were squeezed shut, lips slightly parted…Frig, he was so close to kissing those lips and yet so far…

Prussia hadn't noticed that he had increased the speed of his thrusting, causing Canada to cry out "Gilbert!" as he came all over both their stomachs. Prussia came just a second later as that ring of muscle tightened around his member, likewise gasping satisfyingly "Maddhew…"

They rode out their orgasms before Prussia collapsed awkwardly on Canada, hands still bound. Pain was starting to come back to him.

"Nng, Maddie, my wrists…"

"Oh right…" Panting, Canada grasped for the key on the drawer and unlocked the Prussian, allowing him to fully sink onto the younger nation. It was then that Matt noticed the blood under his fingernails and on the tips of his fingers. Gasping, he searched Gilbert's back, finding the marks which he had left still slightly damp with blood. They were shallow cuts but they still needed to be tended and cleaned.

"Gil. Gil, you're bleeding…"

He lifted the exhausted nation off him and saw the deep purple bruises on his chest and raw purple-pink skin of his wrists. Canada's eyes widened.

"_Merde_, Gil I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for it to go so far, I-" He was cut off by a gentle finger being placed to his lips.

"I'fe had vorse Maddie. Just go ged de first aid, I'm not going anyvhere." Prussia's smile could have lit up the night sky.

Planting a quick kiss on those smiling lips, Matthew immediately ran from the room searching for the necessary supplies. Tomorrow morning, Prussia was going to wake up to the best breakfast feast he ever had.

* * *

Translation Notes:

Da lyubov' moya? (Russian) – Yes my love?


	4. Chapter 4: A Taste Of Reality

Tis It Nobler To Drown Or Freeze

Chapter 4: A Taste Of Reality

This feeling of confusion was relatively new to Blanchette. She had never been this lost or unsure in her short life, and she felt as though she was drowning in emotion. She sat down on her bed, and as Ivan taught her, began to square her thoughts away into categories. She started with Liet, him being her most recent... encounter.

He was her second suspect in her little challenge, mind you the feeling hadn't quite matched up. It had been slightly more intense the first time. She was sure that even though she knew Toris as a friend and that, like her, he was a nation, he wasn't much different from the boys she had partied with. She could handle him easily enough though, if things got out of hand. Or at least she hoped since she knew it hadn't been all her doing bringing the old Lithuania back. She had just given him a push to snap himself out of it.

Russia on the other hand was a completely different story. He confused her beyond any kiss from Liet. He was powerful, terrifying, and all of that combined with being forbidden, made him all the more enticing. He had been acting oddly since she got there. His actions had retained their prowess, although they seem to have been injected with a sort of sexuality that was definitely new to her. And also a bit worrying.

She really needed to speak to someone about this...

Her head jerked off the pillow at the sound of a scream. She could have sworn it was real, though when she listened for it a second time, it never came. She went for her morning shower, keeping her ears open for the sound, but the water was just too relaxing for her to focus on anything else. It quieted and comforted her. After all, what was the Arctic but a bunch of cold water? It felt great, gently massaging the shampoo into her scalp, even the slight scrape of the luffa calmed her down until she felt as though she would melt and go right down the drain with the rest of the water. She smiled placidly. She loved showers.

She was suddenly reminded of this morning's disturbance however, when she pulled back the shower curtains. Metal screeched on metal, but there was a human voice behind it, she was sure of it.

There was no way it could have been anything else.

Hurriedly, she dressed herself warmly and put her hair up. She didn't want it getting in her face and keeping her from spotting an attack. It was also still wet and looked unattractive just hanging down like pieces of a mop. Form and function, two womanly virtues she hadn't failed to acquire naturally. Grabbing the knife she kept under the bed, she quietly made her way downstairs. The scream had been too soft to come from anywhere but the basement, so she headed for the stairs that led to it.

She made her way down slowly and painstakingly, making sure that she produced no sound whatsoever upon her descent. She checked both rooms, but no one seemed to be there. It didn't make any sense, there had to be someone there. She had heard the screams, they were not her imagination, and she wasn't leaving until she found their source.

She leaned against the walls, starting at the stairs, and gradually moving around the large room, her ear pressed to the wall. She was about a quarter of the way through the back wall when she heard it, and saw it. A slight crack in the shape of a door was etched into the basement wall. Her heart began to pound as she heard the cracking of a whip, and whimpers following each and every one. Without even thinking she raised her foot and crashed it down, the concrete crumbling beneath her feet. It took only two more kicks for the door to collapse completely, and reveal the scene Blanchette was never meant to see, nor would she ever forget.

Toris had been roped to a metal pole in the center of the room, blood rolled from his back and pooled on the ground, and Ivan, Ivan towered over the kneeling man with a slim black whip in his hand.

Ivan's purple eyes were hardened to the core with fury, though they softened right down to concern when he saw Blanchette.

"What are you doing!" Blanchette yelled, feeling her fury rise and bubble like a volcano in her chest. At the same time, her mind was screaming at her to get Lithuania out of here as fast as she could.

"Zis ees vhat happens vhen you invade Russia."

He said calmly, and immediately Blanche knew that this was all her fault. Ivan knew about the kiss (alright, full out make-out session), he had probably watched from the shadows. How could she have been so stupid as to let her guard down like that? She felt like she wanted to fall to her knees, to just cry and completely break down at what she'd just seen Ivan do to her friend, but she wasn't about to allow herself look so weak in front of Russia. She let the anger harden in her throat, and spat venomously at Ivan.

"I'm not part of Russia. You have no right to do this."

Ivan's eyes sparkled. He loved the fight in her like that.

"No. No you are not a part of Russia."

He said, dropping the whip and stepping towards her in a predatory manner. He reached out and caught her around the waist pulling her as close as she could get to him. He looked down at the knife in her hand, its point resting directly over his heart. Her eyes glared up at him, but after a few upstrokes of his hand along her spine, they were glazed over with a pleasure she cursed herself for. He leaned forward and roughly captured her lips with his own.

He was nothing like Toris. Ivan was more than powerful, he was demanding and greedy. With Liet, she still had a bit of control. With Ivan, she had none, and that, unfortunately, was a huge turn on. He pushed his tongue inside her mouth, earning a moan from the girl in his arms. He heard the clink of the metal knife hit the concrete floor, and felt her fingers tug gently at his hair, before moving to his neck and finally resting on his chest. Another small moan escaped her lips as he just barely skimmed his fingers under her shirt. He smirked and pulled away, chuckling inwardly when Blanchette tried to kiss him again after only just ending the first. He leaned over her and whispered in her ear;

"But you soon vill be."

The glaze in her eyes completely faded, and a certain sobriety returned to her face. Her eyes hardened. She would not be part of _anyone_. How dare Ivan think otherwise.

Blanchette reached out to the shelf on her right, grasping for whatever instrument of torture her fingers could find while maintaining eye contact with Russia. Her fingers wrapped around a cold metal bar and she quickly swung it around with all her strength to hit Ivan in the face. He went down, cheek split and blood already pouring forth. Blanchette looked down at him for several long seconds, panic rising in her chest. What had she done? Her gaze moved to the iron object in her hand. It looked like a rake, except with a shorter handle and four massive claw-like spikes on the end. Ivan had been lucky that the flat part of the object had hit him instead of the side with the spikes. She let go, the Cat's Paw clattering to the concrete floor.

She grabbed the knife and rushed to Toris' side, quickly cutting the ropes that bound him and pulling him onto her back. Ivan was beginning to rouse. She ran up the stairs and fled the house as quickly as she could, stopping only to grab two heavy coats which she draped over the still bleeding Lithuania. He couldn't die from the cold but it still hurt like a bitch. Blanchette headed south-west for the closest safe country she could think of.

Still dazed from whatever had hit him, Ivan didn't even bother getting up to stop them as he heard the front door slam. Slowly, he assessed his injuries: one split cheek and one bruised but otherwise unbloodied bump on his head from where he had collided with the floor. He braced himself up using both arms and noticed the object which had struck him. Ivan couldn't help but smile. So his little Marushka wanted to play, did she? He chuckled. Now the game was getting interesting.

* * *

Blanchette ran through the streets of Berlin, not bothering with the humans that stopped and stared at the two exhausted and bloody foreigners. She found Prussia's apartment easily enough even though she'd only been there a handful of times. She hadn't noticed that she had started crying until she stopped in front of the door. Unwilling to let go of Lithuania, Blanche rubbed her face on her shoulders to get off most of the tears and kicked at the door. After ten minutes of waiting, Blanchette surmised that Gilbert must have already gone back to Canada, even if he had only left a few days before Russia had appeared at France's house to pick her up. She couldn't help but crack a small smile; those two were so love struck it was hard to believe they could operate separately at all.

Germany was probably busy with whatever he had called down Prussia for, so the next closest place she could go would be to France. Without even thinking, she let her feet guide her as she took off again in search of safe haven.

* * *

England was relaxing in France's kitchen at the Yvelines with a cup of tea after having fixed that bloody door. Francis had called him over for what he had assumed would be so they could go on a "date", but instead he had arrived to find splintered pieces of the once-door lying on the ground within the blast radius and a tool box in his arms. France stopped only long enough to give him a summary of the day's previous occurrences and to let him know he had already bought a new door before bolting from the house for an urgent meeting, planting a quick kiss on Arthur's cheek as he passed the dumbfounded Englishman.

"Stupid Frog." He had murmured under his breath as he watched the Frenchman speed away in his Peugeot 504 cabriolet. Nonetheless, he got to work on cleaning up the veritable warzone, attaching the new door, and making himself a cup of tea, all in under an hour. _You did a bang up job, Arthur old boy_. He chuckled to himself.

Just as he was raising the cup to his lips, there was a bang and the unmistakable sound of a door breaking.

Asking herself, what would Prussia do? Blanchette decided to just kick down the door of France's house. At least it would get his attention. And it certainly did get attention but not quite from the one she had been expecting. A cry of "Bloody Hell!" could be heard from the kitchen, followed by much stomping until a very angry looking Arthur emerged from around the corner and spotted the pair. Blanchette watched his expression change from rage to confusion to distress as he rushed to her side to relieve her of Lithuania's limp body. She hadn't realised how heavy he was until now, though he probably wasn't as heavy as he should have been.

"We walked all the way from Russia. Please, Arthur, we have to help Liet."

"This way, lass." And they took off for the spare bedroom upstairs, England carrying Liet over his shoulder.

When they reached afore mentioned room, England asked Blanchette to put down a few extra sheets and blankets on the bed. Liet was covered in his own blood and was even still bleeding the slightest bit. Buying new sheets was easy, but getting a new mattress would be a pain.

Lying Toris down on his stomach, Arthur began to examine the extent of his injuries while Blanchette ran to the bathroom to get the necessary supplies. With her arms full of bandages, balms, and compresses, she turned to leave the room but caught herself in the mirror. Man, she looked like shit. Her hair was half-in and half-out of its ponytail, she had circles under her eyes from exhaustion, and her clothes were crumpled with mud splattering the bottoms of her pants, not to mention the blood that had dripped off Lithuania onto her back, sides, legs, and arms, some spots dry and some spots still wet. Her inspection over, she ran back to the room Liet and grandpa Iggy were in.

They cared for the still unconscious Liet as best they could, but they both concluded that it would be best to take him to a hospital. Even with the advanced healing capabilities all nation's have, he was still doing really bad.

Picking up Lithuania again, England and Blanchette left the house, with its mutilated door, and headed north. "It would be better if we brought him to a hospital in Britain. It will be easier for me to protect him that way." It was very un-Russia to let prey run off scot free like this. At least they wouldn't be totally helpless like they would be in France with no Francis around. A nation's greatest strength was found within his or her own borders.

At least it wasn't very far to get to the coast, and the Chunnel ride went by pretty fast too. They went straight to London from there, got Lithuania into a hospital and after being told he would be fine and just needed a lot of rest, the two decided to go back to Arthur's so Blanchette could rest and change her clothes.

Being the scent orientated person she was, Blanchette thought the scent of the English air would calm her down, but the truth was that it only made her more nervous. As Arthur led her through the London streets back to his house, she couldn't help but feel like everyone was staring at her. And, in fact, they were. It wasn't everyday that a near-albino person walked down the street covered in dirt and blood.

_Well, it could be worse, it could be raining_. And just then, it did start to drizzle a bit. Blanchette scowled. She hated every form of precipitation that wasn't snow.

"Relax, love. The number one rule of the city is to look like you belong. Slouching won't help."

He said, noticing her figure shorten just slightly. She straightened, always one to follow orders as Ivan taught her. She was taller than the last time Arthur had seen her. And though her beauty had blossomed as she reached her later teen years, so had a tiredness behind her eyes. Arthur supposed it had never really occurred to those who saw her on a constant basis, but Blanchette was getting weaker.

He had seen it all before, Hell, he'd been the cause of it on several occasions. Once a new nation was created, they often couldn't survive on their own. They would start as the colony of one of the parent nations (sharing land was not something countries did well), usually were handed over to another nation after some tiresome war, and would eventually become either their own nation or die and be absorbed into another. But the initial stages of becoming a nation were crucial, and the allegiance of the new nation often depended on one thing; the taking of 'virgin territory'.

Like every living being, nations were likewise born virgins. The first country to claim their 'vital regions', as Prussia would say, usually earned the fledgling nation's loyalty. Due to an overwhelming desire to conquer, nations naturally felt drawn to the newest of their members to take the virgin territory for themselves. This yearning could turn even the shyest and most conservative country into a raging sexual beast. And for the until-then virgin nation, it would guarantee them the strength of that nation which they so desperately needed to continue existing.

To survive, Blanchette would have to merge soon, and he highly doubted Matthew would do that to his daughter. As much as he loved her, he wouldn't have sex with his daughter. Ivan on the other hand would have no objections whatsoever. He just worried that after Blanchette's life had been saved, would any of them ever see the girl again? She would be alive at least, it was all that England could hope for.

He took her to his apartment in the older parts of London, a small but cosy place that felt like it had been an artist's or poet's place at one time, however lying just underneath that, she knew that the footprints of pirates, whores, murderers, and thieves had been placed here.

The first thing she did was take off her bloodied clothing and have a shower, which cleansed her body and helped clear her mind, though the latter only worked slightly. The water smoothed the knots of her muscles and relaxed her spirit; the fatigue she had pushed back all the way here was finally beginning to hit her. When she poked her head outside the bathroom, she spotted a bag sitting on the floor in front of the door. Inside it was a cute turquoise summer dress that went just past her knees. She put it on and made her way to the kitchen where she found Arthur making coffee, something she knew he detested. It was either tea or nothing for the Englishman.

A genuine smile made its way to Arthur's lips as the girl entered the room. The dress suited her well. He had found it, at a good price he might add, a few weeks ago in the window of a shop and thought it the perfect gift for Blanchette. He had intended to give it to her in the summer but desperate times called for desperate measures. He could always just buy her another dress later. Maybe some sandals to match, girls liked that stuff, right?

"Do you want to be distracted, or do you want to talk?"

The Brit asked. In an affair of the heart, one might think the best person to talk to would be Francis, however Arthur was the family member with the most common sense. Perhaps it was luck that she had been forced to go with him instead. It had been a long time since they had spent any time together that wasn't for some birthday celebration or other.

"I think I want to talk."

She said quietly as Arthur prepared a cup of coffee for her. It wasn't Jim Houghtons, or whatever that blasted place was called, but he figured the smell of it might help calm her down. It had worked on Matthew plenty of times.

He motioned for her to take a seat at the kitchen table and waited patiently for her to begin speaking. He was 1933 years old, and if he had learnt anything in that time, it was that females could not, and should not, be rushed.

"I... I saw Ivan torturing Lithuania."

She said, knowing that if she spoke of Toris, her grandfather wouldn't know who it was. England nodded, having been able to discern this already from the cuts across his back. He had had his fair share of torturing people as well. Best not tell Blanchette about that though.

"I was in my room, and I heard screaming. So I went to the basement and I saw…" In her mind's eye, she could see Ivan raise the whip above his head, ready to strike, and Lithuania crumpled on the ground in a pool of his own blood. She had never seen so much blood…Taking a deep breath, she continued. "Ivan was whipping him to an inch of his life so I knocked Ivan out with a big scary metal looking thing, grabbed Liet and ran. Prussia wasn't home and the next place I could think of was France. Fuck, I don't think I've ever been so scared in my life…"

She said, tears beginning to brim her eyes.

Arthur momentarily abandoned the coffee. He wasn't at all surprised to hear that this had happened; after all it had happened before, it had been going on long before Blanchette had even been born. That couldn't be the reason though. Ivan would have trained her not to break down over something he deemed as trivial as this. No, there was something much deeper. Something Ivan would have had difficulty teaching her: love. The only thing Ivan wouldn't have taught her was how to deal with her emotions, and Matthew probably just expected her to learn by example. Poor thing, she was in love and couldn't understand it. With Lithuania? A love struck person probably wouldn't have left his bedside at the hospital though. Then, who did she love?

Blanchette looked up at her forefather, knowing he knew how she really felt, without even needing to ask or be told. He had great powers of deduction, like Sherlock Holmes. Oh God, did that mean he knew about how she felt about Ivan? Hell, _she_ barely even knew how she felt about Ivan. She closed her eyes to keep the tears from slipping down her cheeks.

"Shhh, it's alright, love. It's alright. You're safe here, and you can spend as long as you need here to work things out, alright? You don't have to leave until you're ready."

He said, leaning down and wrapping his arms around the girl. He kissed the top of her head and reached over and grabbing the coffee from earlier, placed it in front of her.

"I made this for you. Hope it makes you feel better."

A small laugh bubbled up from Blanche's throat. Arthur really did have a way with women, perhaps even more so than Francis himself. She leaned against him, his heart beating in her ear. She was ashamed of it, but she closed her eyes, and let herself be transported back to merely the night before, when she had shared his bed and his heart had lulled her to sleep. She let herself pretend that Arthur was Ivan.

As Blanchette drifted off into a stress induced sleep, Arthur was left to his own contemplations once more. He should probably call Matthew, he was her father after all. Though some selfish part of him forced his hand to stay away from the phone. It was rare that England spent any time with Arctic, and even though she was in pain at the moment, she was still here with him and he would do all in his power to make her happy again. He supposed this statement would even apply to letting her go see Ivan again, though that would make Matthew extremely angry. Well, he thought sternly, it wasn't about him. It was about her, and her need to deal with what was happening.

She didn't even stir when he lifted her up off the chair and deposited her on his bed. He could certainly deal with sleeping on the couch if it meant his granddaughter getting a good night's rest. He turned to leave but found his wrist caught in a loose grasp.

"Don't…leave…"

Her voice sounded so distant and weak in her half-sleeping state. England sighed, but smiled slightly as he stretched out beside her, sitting up slightly to keep from falling asleep himself. She clung to his side, hand grabbing a fistful of his shirt. Instinctively, Arthur began to stroke her hair. He found his mind beginning to slip into a state of reminiscence. All the times the boys had crawled into his bed out of fear of the raging tempest outside their window, from a loneliness that just wouldn't go away, or simply to hear one more of their father's famous fairytales before they were sent off to bed. Of all the things he had had to endure raising his boys, the thing he missed most was telling them stories.

"One more Iggy, please?"

They would whine, and he would cave in almost immediately. He never really passed up a chance to tell a fairytale. Arthur smiled as he remember their eyes growing wide as the heroes slayed the dragons, or the fairies stole the children from their beds and the tiny gasps of awe and wonder could be heard every now and again. He could almost see his wizards' spells being cast behind his children's eyes. Though, his favourite thing about the tales was not the telling, nor was it seeing the reaction of his listeners. It was hearing Matthew's soft, sleeping breaths being almost drown out by Alfred's snores.

But they had grown up, ties were severed and re-made, and now he was a grandfather. It made him feel old, to say the least.

Then again, there was one place that even someone as old as him could feel young again, and it might just be the place to bring Blanchette to help cheer her up, and to reconnect her with her family. He smiled to himself as he felt Morpheus embrace him. He'd talk to her about it in the morning.

* * *

When next he woke, Arthur found himself still lying in his bed beside Blanchette, thankfully fully dressed. Her head was tucked neatly into the space between his chin and his chest, while her legs seemed to have been pretzeled around his own. His arms had coiled tightly around her in his sleep. If it had been anyone but his granddaughter, he would have found the situation unbearably awkward. He stroked her hair, earning an early morning groan from his kin.

"Good morning, sunshine."

He chuckled as she buried her head further into his chest in a futile attempt to block out the morning.

"Love, how would you like to go to Disneyworld?"


	5. Chapter 5: Let The Games Begin

Blanchette's eyes immediately snapped open.

"Disneyworld!"

Her voice was quick, excited, and she was on top and over Arthur before he could respond.

"Ohmygod, we're going to Disney! Awwww yeah!"

Arthur was still trying to register what had happened in his mind, while Blanchette danced around the room. How in Hell had she gone from shoving out all existence of day from her mind to dancing and singing in a matter of what, three seconds? He rubbed his temples. Maybe he should have waited to tell her until noon, when he could actually keep track of her. Speaking of which, where was she? He had only closed his eyes for a total of two seconds…

"Uncle Alfred! Hi! We're coming to visit alright?"

England's eye twitched. What the Hell? He heard her voice call from the living room again.

"Iggy! Uncle Alfred said he can get us in for free, and we can spend a few days with him too!"

The nation shrugged and plopped back on the bed. It was too early for this shit.

* * *

"I can't wait to see ya! I'll send a jet to pick you up right quick, alright?"

"You're so cool Uncle Al! I can't wait to see you either. We're in London, by the way."

"London?"

The nation asked, finding a discrepancy in what had just been said. He checked his calendar. Matthew had specifically visited each of his close family relatives to mark down which days Blanchette was with him and which ones she would be with Russia. It allowed them to better plan and remember who was spending time with her where and when.

"You're supposed to be with Russia this week, aren't ya?"

"Plans changed."

Blanchette said far too quickly. It would have been considered a snap if she hadn't used such a soft tone. Alfred sensed something behind it, but he simply ignored it for the moment. As arrogant as he could be sometimes, he knew that his father wouldn't have missed something like that. Something had happened while his niece had been in Russia, he knew it.

"The plane will be there in two hours. We'll be in Disneyworld at openin' and have all day to do whatever ya want, Stella."

He said happily. Blanchette grinned, and Alfred could hear the smile on her face when she said

"Alright. See you later!"

She hung up the phone and dialled home. She definitely wasn't going to leave Matthew out of this.

"Do you know vat time it is?"

She heard Gilbert groan into the phone, the aggravated moan of a sleepy Canada came from somewhere in the background.

"Gil it's me! Tell Papa we're going to Disney!"

* * *

America's smile didn't disappear when he heard a click signalling his niece had hung up on him. If anything, his grin broadened. She was a troublemaker just like he had been back in the day (most if not all nations would argue he still WAS a troublemaker). Actually, she wasn't that bad, she didn't have armies at her disposal like he had. The thought of a highly militarized Arctic, complete with nuclear weapons bases and the girl holding onto two massive machine guns made him chuckle a bit. Not that she wouldn't do it, just that not much would work all the way up there in the snow and cold.

Then again, it wasn't too long ago that Canadian and Russian soldiers had been shooting and killing each other up in that frozen wasteland. He loved his niece and all, but the Arctic really was just one huge piece of ice floating on the ocean where nothing could grow and few things could survive. Alfred didn't consider it was worth fighting for besides proving who owned the most northern tip of the whole planet.

That had pretty much been the only reason for the Conflict actually. Russia had always had his eyes set on possessing the Arctic (Hell, that guy wanted to own EVERYTHING) and Canada, well, he wasn't entirely sure where his brother sat on all this. Sometimes he claimed he was just tired of the Russians secretly invading Northern Canada, sometimes he said he did it to protect the Arctic because someone had to be responsible for once. America supposed that there was a bit of pride involved in the whole thing for the Canadian. Maybe he just wanted someone to finally notice him.

Well, they noticed but no one dared do or say much about it. Both Russia and Canada would have torn apart anyone who tried to step foot in the Arctic at that time. In the end the countries, including Alfred, who had territory within the Arctic Circle just ignored what was happening; gaining the Arctic in full would just be a pain for most of them. So the world let that small war wage.

Luckily, the fighting stopped only two years later in a temporary ceasefire. Casualties were low on both sides, but the shaky peace could not erase the stain of red, red blood on pure white snow. Both Canadians and Russians were angry; their brothers and sisters had not died for nothing.

It had been eight years since the ceasefire, and agitation was creeping back into the world of the north. Something needed to be done and decided, and fast.

During all his time reminiscing, Alfred's smile had disappeared, his eyes sad. He was worried, really worried for his brother, his twin. He was a fierce fighter (and Al had the scars to prove it) but against Russia, he could lose more than just Blanchette. Sometimes Al doubted Matt really knew what he had gotten himself into. He didn't know what he would do if his little brother suddenly…disappeared.

Wiping a tear from his eye, America shook himself out of it. He still had to get ready and get that plane and let Florida know what was going on so she wouldn't freak out at him when he just appeared with half the family. There was work to be done. At 3:30 in the morning…

* * *

The Florida sun was rising beautifully on the eastern horizon when the family arrived in the U.S.A. Blanchette looked eagerly around the airport, searching the crowd of people for her uncle. England, Canada and Prussia found themselves searching for her. France, however, knew exactly where everyone was, as he could see them all from his vantage point at a lovely little cocktail bar, sipping a glass of red wine (it didn't matter if it was six or seven in the morning on the east coast of North America, ANYtime was a good time for wine). Not the finest he'd ever tasted, but good enough under the circumstances. He watched in amusement as Arthur and Matthew continually looked to him for guidance as to where to find the girl. He had to admit, more than once he had pointed Arthur in the wrong direction, just for shits and giggles. Prussia just did his own thing, he always had, and France was surprised to find he was generally going in the right direction. The man had the senses of a predator. Finally he saw Blanchette connect sharply with Alfred's back, then, in the usual American way, he greeted her with a hug and loud laughter that could be heard over the crowd of people trying to find their way out of the bloody sauna of an airport. Eventually everyone came together around the American and his niece, but only after Francis was done his wine.

Disney was like nothing Blanchette had ever seen before. It was like its own country, with several other countries shoved into it. The theme parks were huge. Alfred had dragged everyone on countless rides, and bought Blanchette anything she saw that she even remotely liked.

He chuckled to himself when he saw smile after smile beam across her face. He loved making people smile, he was the hero after all and it was his job to keep his people happy, but he especially enjoyed doting upon his one and only niece (Quebec and Alberta and Nunavut and the others didn't really count, he rarely saw them and they couldn't venture to see him in America). He focused the day's energy into making her smile, and to keeping the mini-him (he disagreed with the mini part) in his pants down. Damn virgin territory. Upon further thought, which America did on occasion, he realised he could technically take her. He had every right to, since he owned Alaska. She and Blanchette would make good friends since both girls enjoyed the evilly cold snow so much. He had to repress these thoughts, though, since he had earlier spotted Francis eyeing his pants suspiciously, and though he had no real fear of the Frenchman, he had no doubt that he would be given a severe beating by not only him, but Matthew, Arthur, Ivan, Gilbert and maybe even Ludwig and Veneciano, if they decided it would be fun to join in. Well, not so much Veneciano. He would be the one to provide Alfred with the white flag after the others had beaten him to a pulp.

He had been concentrating so hard on thoughts of old people doing it or two-girls-one-cup to keep his hard-on down, that he almost didn't here Blanchette's question.

"Hey Al, are we going to the pool after lunch?"

Blanchette asked excitedly as they boarded the bus that would take them back to their cabin in Fort Wilderness.

"Is there even a pool there?"

Francis asked, having only been to his own park, Eurodisney in Paris. It was a small thing, something comparable to Wonderland in Toronto. It was nothing compared to the sheer expanse of resorts, restaurants and characters that was the Orlando park.

"Actually, I have a surprise for you later. For now, I claim the window seat!"

He said playfully as Blanchette attempted to squeeze her butt between him and the seat in an attempt to take what he had claimed.

"No no no! It's mine!"

She giggled, somehow tumbling over, sprawling herself out to cover both seats. Alfred looked down at her with an angry face, though it was blatantly obvious he was trying to hold in laughter as she squeezed the cushion underneath her and firmly stated; "Mine."

The bus driver promptly got angry with them, forcing Blanche over and Al to sit in his seat. The pair looked at each other and giggled incessantly. Mattie smiled at them from his position next to Gil. It was good to see them having fun together after all these years. It was as though they had never been separated. It wasn't awkward at all between them. France and Arthur were bickering the whole time, as usual, Gilbert was absorbed in Matthew, and Matthew was busy watching his little girl play around with his brother. As dysfunctional as they were, this was Matthew's family. He didn't think he could have asked for a better one.

"Vhy are you so smiley all of a sutten?"

Gil asked, wrapping his arm around the smaller nation. Matt shrugged just as the bus ran over a rather large bump and forced the lovers' lips together in a kiss which neither had any objection to continuing.

"Ewwww!"

Blanchette and Alfred called simultaneously in a childish tone. Blanchette was joking of course, but Alfred undoubtedly thought it really was gross. He had never fully approved of his brother being with "that fucking blood-thirsty, crazy ass kraut" but he had had no choice but to accept it since Matthew had no intention of dumping his boyfriend anytime soon. England just sighed and flipped the page of his newspaper while France whipped out the camera and captured the precious moment, one of the few his Mathieu had had the privilege of having.

"_Ils sont si adorable_!"

He cooed, looking at the shot. Matthew's cheeks and ears went red while Gilbert just smirked into the kiss.

A few minutes later the bus pulled up to the resort and the family, along with a few others, piled out and began to make their way to lunch. The themed restaurant was loud and noisy, as it would have been in the early days it was made to replicate. Blanchette took a fork full of mashed potatoes and pretended to fling them at Gilbert, only to have them actually land on him. She sucked in and held her breath, unsure of how the nation would react. To her surprise, he picked up a pea and flung it at her. A stern look from England, however, promptly ended the fight. Francis kissed his husband on the cheek.

"Lighten up, _mon chéri_. We're at Disney, and the food isn't all that great anyways."

Arthur simply mumbled an indecipherable response, much to his husband's amusement.

* * *

"Where are we going Al?"

Blanchette asked, just slightly concerned about the sign they had just passed that read 'no trespassing'.

"Relax Stella, I have special permission to be here."

He said, leading them on an abandoned road, scattered with leaves and growing over with trees. It gave Francis the creeps.

"Ah! Here we are."

Alfred said happily.

"River Country? Al that's been closed for ages..."

Mattie said, remembering it on the news from years ago when he had been visiting his brother.

"Yeah, but it's been opened to us, and we're gonna have a water fight. The winning team gets the beds in the suites, and the losers get the couches."

The family members looked at each other. Alfred was astonishingly stupid. Did he really think the couples were going to sleep in separate beds? Though when a devilish smile spread itself of Prussia's lips, Francis immediately got the same idea. The two men nodded and agreed that this was indeed, the best idea they had heard all day. Canada looked at the two, confused for a moment before it clicked in. They were going to use this game to their advantage in another game later to come weren't they? Well he wouldn't let it happen.

"Team Red is Prussia, France and Blanchette. Team Blue will be Mattie, Arthur and myself."

America said, with great enthusiasm as he handed out colour coded water guns and vests.

"When the targets are hit with water, they'll turn the colour of the opposite team, so when all four targets have been turned, you're out. Easy right?"

He explained. The teams donned their vests.

"We all get five minutes to spread out and get set up. Oh, and here's some headsets to keep in touch. If something goes wrong, just push the little red button and it'll let you communicate with everyone, not just your team. Otherwise, push the green button to talk."

Alfred paused briefly, then dashed off.

"Game on!"

He shouted, and with that, the teams dispersed.

* * *

Blanchette smirked as she picked up a bit of dirt from the ground and, mixing it with some water, smeared the mud onto her arms, legs and face. She then pulled some vines from a willow tree and threaded them through her hair. When she returned to her team, they were surprised to see just how much she was getting into this, though they followed her example. Taking a few more vines, they wrapped the brightly coloured guns with some nearby palm leaves.

"What's the plan?"

Francis asked in a low whisper. It was tactical master Prussia's turn to speak up.

"You und I vill profide a front. Vhatever you do, don't show dem your back. Keep dat target vell hitten. Blanchette here vill do some acting for us. Press de red button and pretend as dough you've just been attacked, but don't say by vhat. Be vague. Sound veak."

Blanchette nodded. Eyes glued to her superior.

"Vhen you've pressed de button, dey vill come running and ve vill be behind dem. Ve'll get their backs. Don't press the red button until ve've gotten all deir fronts, alright?"

Again, Blanchette nodded.

"Goot girl. Keep communications to a minimum. No doubt Alfred has rigged dose dings so dey can hear vhat ve're saying."

He said, pointing to the ear pieces they had left a bit away from their hushed circle. The two men looked at their watches.

"C'est l'heure."

Francis said, and stood with his team mates. They knuckle bumped, grabbed their communicators, and ventured forth to do battle.

* * *

Mattie and Arthur had agreed; it was better to let the others come to them. Alfred was a bit antsy, however, and wanted to lunge out and attack in a pre-emptive strike. Such was the way of his people, his team supposed.

"This is ridiculous! They're probably doing the same thing we are!"

Alfred grumbled. Arthur shushed him. He had lived long enough to know that Prussia would do no such thing, and it was a fact that could be depended upon.

"I wonder why they haven't said anything..."

Alfred mumbled after a while. He had bugged the communicators so that they would hear whatever information was passed between them, but they didn't seem on.

Canada rolled his eyes. Alfred was sneaky, but predictable.

A rustling in the bush made Arthur twitch, though he couldn't see anything there. It must have been some wildlife, he reasoned, though he couldn't shake the feeling that something was there. He moved up just slightly to look for the source of the noise, before pressurized water blasted him backwards.

"Found them!"

Francis' playful voice seemed to skip through Arthur's brain like a two year old. The shock, however, was more like a gold brick wrapped in a lemon being smashed through his brain. Well, that was one target gone. A few more snipes took out both Alfred's shoulder markers, and one of Arthur's. Matthew, however, had managed to remain unseen, and untouched. So far anyways.

Arthur attempted to fire, although not a human sound was made when he fired at things, so he could only assume he hadn't hit anything.

"I'm running out of ammo."

He said a bit worriedly. He knew this was only for rights to a bed he would sleep in anyways, but Francis could enforce the rule and make him sleep on the couch, which would end with a foul mood and a kink in his neck.

He lifted his head again, and against all odds, his target wasn't hit.

"Cover me." No one appeared to be around, so figuring that Blue team was out of water as well, he went to the edge of the pond and begin filling the gun along with the extra canisters. He had managed to fill the main gun when he heard a splash, and Mattie cry out in shock. Prussia was clearly visible in the tree branches that hung over their little hideout. Staying low, England shot a burst of water at the albino, though the gun didn't have enough pressure to reach him. He snickered as he dodged Alfred's shots, and ran back through the trees, leaving behind the bucket he'd used to drench his lover.

* * *

"Got him."

Prussia's voice came over the com, along with a few chuckles.

"Got him."

Blanchette heard Prussia say. She looked at her watch, and counted down eight seconds before pressing the red button.

"Papa! Please help pap-"

Her voice sounded shrill, and panicked, and then she held her hand over her mouth as she ripped off the communicator and threw it to the ground. Keeping her hand over her mouth she made muffled screams as she walked into the bush farther away from the communicator and gradually made her voice less loud, creating the illusion that she was being dragged away. Her eyes flickered with the laughter she was trying her best to hold in. She felt bad for her Papa, but then again, she wanted to win.

* * *

"Blanchette!"

Mattie cried when he heard his daughter's voice moving further away from the communicator. Even Prussia and Francis rushed out of their hiding places, indicating to the father that this wasn't a game anymore. Fear rushed over him as thoughts of Russia kidnapping his girl flooded his mind. The three blonds jumped from their places, rushing past the other two, who compared to the trio's speedy movements, seemed slow.

"Blanchette!"

The three cried, coming to her deserted communicator. Hearts beating fast, the two younger ones' heads spun around, looking for any traces of the girl. England however, had sensed something odd about this. Francis should surely have been here, and even Prussia would have been just as quick on his feet to help Blanchette, and yet there was no sign of them, or any other footprints besides Blanchette's.

"Boys get back here, it's a-"

The bucket of water had already been tipped and the boys were soaked from head to toe.

"Trap."

The eldest nation finished weakly.

Giggling, Blanchette jumped down from the tree, gun at the ready. Two jets of water thumped England heavily in his back, making him turn and receive one directly in the face from his husband. The Frenchman grinned.

"We win!"

Blanchette squealed happily, running over to her team mates. Matthew watched as the group performed a victorious three-person high-five. He could almost hear the Final Fantasy VII Victory Fanfare playing around them as they did.

Quiet as a church mouse, Alfred took the bucket, and filled it with water from the nearby pond. He then proceeded to dump it over Blanchette's head, and marking all the targets red.

"Alfred, we already won. I get the bed tonight."

She said, though still laughing. Her uncle shook his head no, and pointed to his chest. Blanchette's jaw dropped. The target was clear of any blue.

"I doubled over when the bucket came down. I get the bed tonight."

He said proudly puffing out his chest. Blanchette smirked and gave him a light head butt, the water from her hair managing to stain a light blue on the target.

"Oh yeah!"

Alfred said, shoving her away enough to grab the bucket and fill it again, tossing it at her. She moved, causing it to douse Mattie, yet again.

"Alfred! I was almost dry!"

He cried, tackling his brother into the pond. Blanchette happily jumped in after them, grabbing her uncle's arms and helping her father shove a strand of pondweed in his mouth. England, France and Prussia looked on fondly at the scene unfolding, until Blanchette's nose twitched.

"I smell rain."

She said, raising her head. Everyone else's eyes followed suit. Sure enough, dark clouds were beginning to form.

"We best get back to the hotel."

Arthur suggested. The rest nodded and followed Alfred, dumping their things in the old shed before leaving.

"That was fun."

Blanchette said, smiling her biggest smile at her uncle. He leaned over and kissed her hair.

"Anything for my Stella."

He said, making Blanchette laugh. The dirt from her hair had gotten around Al's mouth in such a way that it looked like a goatee. She laughed even harder when he made a pensive face and began stroking his newly goateed chin.

She wished they could stay like this forever.

* * *

Canada watched the exchange between his daughter and older brother, an affectionate smile gracing his lips. Today had been a good day. They had all needed this, needed the time to reconnect as a family. Mostly, they had all just needed to have a little fun. But now Matthew was exhausted. He had barely gotten any sleep since Russia had taken Blanchette with him, and he tended to work himself to death with all the worrying he had been doing. On top of that, he had had to wake up just as he had finally managed to fall asleep and spent the whole day going from place to place, fatigue accumulating again in the family activities they had done that day.

When they got back to the hotel, he was going straight to bed. And he _would_ sleep on the couch, no matter how hard Gilbert tried to get him into the bed because he wanted sex. _Serves him right for dumping a bucket of water on me instead of playing fair._ He was far too tired for sex anyways.

A pair of arms slid around his waist and he felt warm air on the back of his neck as Prussia pressed closer.

"Und vhat are _you_ dinking about, _liebling_?"

Matthew moved his hands to cradle Gil's encircling arms before he continued.

"Do you remember that time when it was just the three of us at Wonderland?"

Prussia snickered. "Vhen you caught her kissing dat human boy?"

Canada frowned. He didn't _want_ to remember _that_ part. Too late, the memory was already playing…

_

* * *

_

Two years ago, they had decided to go to Wonderland. Again. Blanchette loved it there and since it was the end of August, it would probably be her last time to go this year. And so, they had packed the car and set off, blasting the air conditioner to fend off the stifling summer heat.

_Wonderland was a summer ritual for the three of them. They went at least ten times every summer. One time, Matt had been especially busy with work all through summer and, since going to Wonderland always constituted family time, they had only gone five or six times. Blanchette had complained nonstop until the winter's first snowfall. Complaining was kept to a minimum in winter; she loved the snow too much to be unhappy._

_When they arrived two years ago, they did what they always did. They did everything at least twice, even if they had already done everything a million times before. Since it was a particularly hot day, they all agreed that it was a good idea to hit the water park earlier than usual. It seemed they weren't the only ones that had thought this as it was one of the busiest places in the park. Matthew and Gilbert had quickly lost track of Blanchette and both nearly panicked, running hither and thither to find her._

_And oh they had found her. In the arms of some nameless boy she would probably outlive a hundred times! Not to mention she was far too young, especially by nation standards. She might have looked fifteen at the time but she had actually only been alive for six years. Before Matt could storm up to her and drag her away, giving her a strong lecture all along the way, Prussia grabbed hold of his arm._

"_Maddie, she's a teenager now. Let her do her own ding. You can play moder hen later."_

_By the time Blanchette reappeared, Canada had been long distracted by Prussia and his antics, sexual and not. Curse that man…_

* * *

Thinking back to that day, Matthew suddenly felt guilty for what Blanchette had had and would still have to go through. Where most nations had centuries to grow up, Blanchette would have to do in decades, if that. Hell, it had taken Matthew over three hundred years to reach nineteen. For Blanchette, it would take only ten. He had two more years and then his little girl wouldn't be so little anymore. The world just wasn't fair sometimes.

Then again, maybe this was the world's way of protecting her, forcing her to grow up so she would be better prepared for the hard times ahead. He prayed that Mother Earth knew what she was doing.

"Hurry up, you two lovebirds. We're hungry over here."

Arthur called. The four were some ways away by now. Both Gilbert and Matt sighed, and regrettably broke apart. Food first, and then sleep. Blessed sleep…

* * *

Translations:

Ils sont si adorable!: (French) - They're so adorable!

Mon cheri (French) - My dear

C'est L'heure (French) - It's time.

Liebling (German) - darling

NOTE:

We're so sorry about not updating on Sunday! Both Blacklite and I had a very busy week and as such we haven't begun writing chapter 6. So this Sunday (18th of July), we will not be updating, but next Sunday (25th of July) we will. If you're mad, be comforted in the knowledge that the story will continue, and that if you're reading this, Chuck Norris didn't kill you in your sleep.


	6. Chapter 6: The Wolf At The Door

When they got to the hotel room, America lunged himself onto the bed.

"Mine!"

He claimed joyously. Blanchette didn't have the energy to fight him. The afternoon full of fresh air, the warm food in her belly, and the lulling sound of the rain droplets against the roof was enough to make anyone drop from a standing position, and curl up to sleep on the floor. She simply grabbed her pillow from her bag and dropped onto the couch. Alfred watched as the young girl plopped down, deliberately waiting a moment before making his offer.

"You can sleep with me if you want."

He said, moving to the part of the mattress that was pushed up against the wall.

"You couldn't have told me this while I was standing?"

She questioned, a hint of annoyance in her voice. Alfred just laughed as the girl stood and walked over like she was some sort of zombie, dumping herself unceremoniously at his side. She was asleep before she even hit the mattress. He stretched out his arm and pulled her close, fitting her to himself like a pair of spoons in a drawer.

She smelt so good, something that seemed just slightly familiar, but he couldn't quite place his finger on. Her hair was pulled underneath her, revealing the skin that enveloped the back of her neck.

Alfred's fingers were tempted to smooth over the skin of her belly, while he kissed the flesh of her neck. He would run his fingers over every inch of the pale girl's skin before he-

The thought stopped with the sudden realisation that his lips were far too close to the girl's neck, closer than they had been before, and his hand was inching its way up her shirt. His breath hitched before it came out rather raggedly. Blanchette moaned in her sleep, making the muscle between Alfred's legs tense. The girl arched her back, forcing her ass to grind against Al's hips. His face flushed red and began to burn up. She could probably feel his bulge growing against her, if only she'd been conscious.

_That's it. I'm taking her._

Al thought violently. He raised his arm, readying to flip her onto her back and begin ravaging right then and there when she turned to face him and tucked her head into his chest, a hand reaching out to grasp his shirt tightly.

She seemed so childlike just then, and immediately the temptation was gone. She was innocent, and he loved her, as family. He couldn't do that to her. He wouldn't. America swore, as he wrapped his arms around the girl, that anyone who dared hurt her would not only face his wrath, but the wrath of his armies, his citizens, his allies. In other words, he'd send a personally signed nuke up anyone's ass who even threatened her with violence. Because family protects each other, right?

He looked out the window but all he could see was a dark grey night sky made blurry with the ever falling raindrops crashing into the window pane. Alfred may not have been able to see the stars, but he knew they were still there, shining on. Bah, he didn't need them; he had a star in his arms, his Stella.

His mind drifted back to when he had started calling her that. It was her third of fourth time sleeping over at his house. She had wanted to go outside and look at the stars, which were shining particularly bright that night. It had been the New Moon; the light that usually radiated from that celestial sphere had vanished, leaving the stars to burn their own way through the navy blue heavens. America had been pointing out a few stars and constellations, like Orion and Sirius, when Blanchette had asked.

"Which star is mine?"

This left Al speechless and looking up blankly at the darkened sky. There were millions, no, BILLIONS of stars to chose from, and she wanted just one? As luck would have it, Alfred's eyes had found their way to the Big Dipper and then up that imaginary line to Polaris.

"That one!" He smiled and pointed it out for her. "It's called Polaris, or the North Star. It always leads people north, so it'll always lead you home."

She stared at it with wonder for such a long time, Alfred thought she was still looking up at it when he heard a tiny snore. Gently picking her up, they headed back inside with the stars watching over them. From then on, she was his Stella, his star Polaris. And she had led him back to his family, their family, home.

The rain pattering outside the hotel coupled with the way she clung to him reminded him of those earlier years. She hated the rain, but she hated thunderstorms even more, if anything because she was so afraid of them as a child. One particularly bad thunderstorm when she was visiting Alfred had her huddled up against him on his bed, shaking like a leaf and nearly in tears. Al was, himself, rather terrified of storms but for Blanchette, he'd been brave. He had held her close, kept his voice level, told her stories to get her mind off the raging tempest outside. She had finally fallen asleep after a few hours. Alfred hadn't managed to fall asleep until near dawn, when the storm had begun to subside. Thunderstorms were too scary to sleep through.

The girl moaned in her sleep, bringing America back to the present, and wriggled as though trying to get away from something in her dream. Alfred held her close, whispering in her ear that it was alright, he was here. She seemed to calm down when all of a sudden her palm was on his face and she smashed his head back into the wall with a powerful;

"NO!"

The man cried out in surprise and clutched the back of his head.

"Ohmygod Al, I'm so sorry! I was having a bad dream!"

* * *

"Francis, come on! I just want to go to bed!"

Arthur complained as his lover lay down naked, sprawling himself across the bed, making sure there was no room for England to lie down comfortably.

"_Mériter ton prix_."

The Frenchman said, looking up lustfully at his husband.

"Francis, I'm tired."

"Then sleep on the couch."

Arthur's eyebrow twitched in annoyance. He really didn't want to sleep on the couch…

"Alright fine! Stupid blighter…"

He said, lying down between his husband's legs, taking his length and stroking it lightly. Francis leaned back with a smile on his face, enjoying the man's gentle touch. He closed his eyes, concentrating his being on the hand around him, but gasped when he felt the wet heat of his love's mouth envelope him completely. He groaned, grasping at the sheets with one hand and the blonde's hair with the other as England's practiced tongue licked the length of his shaft, even going so far as to let his tongue slip into the slit at the top of Francis' penis, causing said Frenchman to moan and buck into his mouth. Arthur hadn't meant this to go any further than a blow job, but damn, hearing his husband's pleasure sounds was beginning to make him horny, too. Keeping one hand on the base of Francis' cock, he let the other slip down his own pants, much to the Frenchman's disapproval.

In one swoop, England was under him and his pants were off. His shirt followed almost as quickly after. How Francis did it he would never know, though he figured it must be something most Frenchmen would be able to do naturally.

Francis leaned over and began placing delicate kisses over England's body, his hands tracing Arthur's abs, and stroking his cock with touches no heavier than feathers.

England moaned his husband's name as the man lifted his hips, nipping and kissing his way along the Englishman's inner thigh.

"FraAAAAAAHHHH-nnnn- ooh..."

Arthur whined loudly as Francis thrust into him without any sort of warning, not even bothering to wait for the him to adjust, he just kept thrusting, though at a slow pace. He knew his husband would adjust rather quickly. Just as suspected, England began thrusting his hips upwards, the signal for Francis to pick up the pace. As he did, he gently pushed his lover onto his side. Arthur could have woken the hotel with his own screams as the Frenchman hit his prostrate in such a way that had him seeing stars.

"AhhH! Francis doOOOh! doNnnn't Stoooooop..."

He keened, turning his head so that Francis could lean over and kiss him on the mouth. Francis' tongue invaded Arthur's mouth, and the Frenchman happily swallowed every noise of pleasure that the man beneath him made. Feeling that they were both getting close, Francis reached down and began pumping Arthur's cock, running his thumb over the sensitive head every time. The sound of Arthur coming was eagerly swallowed by his husband, whose mouth was still dominating his own. Francis continued to stroke him, milking him of every last drop of come he had in him while pumping into the man's fatigued body. Finally the Frenchman came with a not so quiet groan, the final powerful thrust earning a quiet moan from his partner.

Francis lay down beside Arthur after pulling out, and kissed his forehead.

"It was good, _non_?"

He asked. Arthur just grumbled something unintelligible before pulling the covers up and falling to sleep almost immediately.

_I'll l'aimait._

Francis thought to himself with a little chuckle before he, too, drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Prussia wrapped his arms around Matthew as soon as they entered the door.

"Not tonight Gil, I'm too tired."

Mattie said lightly, pushing the other man's arms away from him. Gil sighed, but as a good boyfriend should, he respected his love's decision or, rather, unwillingness and flopped onto the bed while Mattie took a shower. Prussia didn't feel the need. He liked the smell of the fresh air on himself. Matt, however much an outdoorsman he was, preferred to sleep with a scent of cleanliness about him. Gil rolled over so he was facing the wall, and kicked off his shoes. Mattie was right. The day had completely worn him out, though unlike the Canadian, Prussia was never too tired for sex. He closed his eyes, thinking that he would try again later, only to fall asleep fully clothed on the luxurious bed.

When Mattie was done with his shower he couldn't help but chuckle at the scene. It was typical of Prussia to fall asleep early because he wasn't getting any that night. The Canadian dried himself off, slipped on a pair of boxers, grabbed a spare pillow and a blanket from the closet, and, kissing Gilbert's forehead, he shuffled off to the couch. He knew what Gilbert was trying to do, pretending to be asleep so Matthew would think it was safe to sleep on the comfortable bed, only to roll over onto him, and arouse him to the point where he couldn't NOT have sex. Predictable, but Matt usually went along with it if anything for the great sex. Not this time though, he was still a little angry at Prussia for dumping a whole bucket of water on him (not only was it cheating but he had been absolutely soaked and it was a nightmare to get his hair dry). Tonight, Gilbert would just have to suffer.

Gilbert frowned when he noticed a distinct lack of Canada by his side. So his plan had failed. Well, not failed just…taken a downturn. Carefully, he slid off the bed and peeked around the corner to spot Matthew already comfortably drifting off on the couch. Gilbert hadn't expected Canada to take the game so…seriously. Even if Gilbert didn't get any sex tonight, he still would have let Matthew sleep on the bed. If anything, it should have been Gilbert sleeping on the couch as a part of being dickwhipped by his boyfriend. The idea that the Canadian might actually be mad at him was upsetting. He crept closer, suddenly finding the idea of sleeping without Matt unbearable, and slipped himself onto the couch as well, spooning the Canadian for dear life lest the Prussian fall off the couch.

Sensing that the space present on the couch had shrunk dramatically, Matthew was brought to full wakefulness. A moment later, his mind registered the familiar signs of Gilbert: arms wrapped around his torso, legs entangled in his, warm breath on the back of his neck as his love snuggled his face into his hair. But Matthew was uncomfortable. The couch was not meant to accommodate two grown men, and Canada liked his space, and a lot of it. He grumbled into his pillow.

"Gil, we can't both fit on the couch. Get off."

"_Nein_, not unless you sleep vith me in bed."

Canada let out a loud, frustrated sigh. He wasn't going to lose _this_ time. So instead, he tried his best to ignore the relative absence of comfortable space and fell back asleep.

Prussia smiled slightly as a change in Matthew's breathing told him he was asleep. He really wanted to roll him over and watch him sleep, his long lashes gently brushing up against his cheeks, pink lips parted in an almost inaudible snore, his little ahoge bent out of shape from being squished against the pillow. It was almost too much to resist, but he knew if he moved he would wake the Canuck up, or possibly cause him to fall off the ridiculously small couch. It wasn't worth depriving Matt of a much needed sleep just so see what he had disturbed. Prussia shifted his body slightly, finding that lying on his side for too long was making his hips hurt. Matthew moaned in his sleep, moving as though he was trying to free himself from something, finally ending up facing Gilbert with his hands against Gil's chest. Smiling, Gilbert analysed every inch of the face he had already memorized a dozen times, almost unable to believe something so beautiful could exist and even rival his own handsomeness. Suddenly, Prussia felt the Canadian tense before said hockey player shoved him unceremoniously from the sofa with a cry;

"NO!"

Gilbert landed on the floor with a thud, the wind knocked out of him, too shocked to react. Looking up from his position on the floor, he spotted Matthew's head poking out from on top of the couch.

"Ohmygod, Gil I'm so sorry! I was having a bad dream!"

* * *

They spent the entire next day in Disneyworld, but everyone agreed to return to their respective homes that night. Doubtless, the work was already building up for all of them in their offices, except for Blanchette, who didn't have an office due to her lack of independence, and Prussia, who tended to just dump all his work on Germany. Not that his brother did mind, in fact, Ludwig didn't usually let Gilbert anywhere near the paperwork. The last time Prussia was depended on to help out with some work, they received bomb threats from Jordan.

And so, when it was time for Blanchette, Matthew, and Gilbert to board their plane, they each hugged and were hugged, in some cases kissed (mostly by Francis) and glared at (mainly between Alfred and Gilbert), and said their farewells, none of them tearful and all of them thankful for the brief time they were able to have together.

They arrived home in the early morning, exhausted again. But this time, Matthew conceded. Prussia praised whatever god was out there with every kiss upon his lover's skin.

Two days later, Blanchette was watching some new rated 18A film with her Papa in the late afternoon, a story that had promised tons of blood and gore in the summary and hadn't failed to deliver. She looked at Matthew a few times just to check that he didn't have that "Blanchette, you shouldn't be watching this, you're too young" face, only to find that he was surprisingly into the movie. That was the thing about northern nations; one simply did not survive in the north without accepting the concepts of torture and murder so they accepted it quite quickly. No one ever survived for years out in the Canadian wilderness two hundred years ago by peacefully living in a cabin, eating roots and berries. The only thing to eat was usually whatever animal you could get your hands on and kill, and you were lucky if you had that cabin. On top of that, there was competition between men. As many treaties as were made between the Native peoples and the European explorers, blood had constantly been spilled on both sides. The moral wrongness of killing tended to leave one's mind if one's own life was on the line.

But every country had a certain amount of bloodlust. No nation escaped war and conflict, and most were shaped by it.

They were just getting to the part where the crazy ex-girlfriend was about to saw open her ex-boyfriend's skull with a rusty hand saw, when the doorbell rang. They looked at each other, both wondering if it was old Mrs. Tremblay from next door telling them to turn it down because the sound was disturbing her miniature poodle Earl. With a sigh, Canada paused the movie (a close-up of the saw barely a centimetre from the terrified boy's scalp) and walked up the stairs to go see who it was.

Blanchette had a bad feeling about the visitor. Prussia was out but he had a key to the house anyways, if it was even locked. She took a deep breath and, amongst all the familiar scents of home and winter, she smelled the faint smell of…sunflowers. She was up the stairs in seconds.

What she saw froze her in place and nearly stopped her heart cold. The hallway was made cold by the wisps of cold air leaking through the open door, and in that doorway stood Ivan, lead pipe in hand. His smile was like that of a child, but his eyes betrayed a deeper hatred and an anger more intense than a blizzard. Across from him, blocking any further entry into the building was Matthew, hockey stick in hand. She couldn't see his face but by his stance, she knew he was getting ready to fight. Kuma bared his teeth at Ivan, but remained at a safe distance behind Matt.

Ivan's cold amethyst eyes finally locked on to Blanchette's own mortified pair standing at the top of the basement stairs.

"Marushka, eet is time to go now, da? No need to get your stuff, everyzing is still at ze mansion. Except for you, zat is."

It suddenly occurred to Blanchette that it was still Russia's week to have her over. She should have known that he wouldn't just ignore her running off like that. Ivan had never punished her physically, but after what she had seen happen to Liet…She was shaking all over, and not from the cold. But, Ivan was her dad, he would never do anything like that, or at least she believed.

The corner of Ivan's smile twitched.

"Blanchette, ve are going. NOW."

She nearly jumped out of her skin. He had never said her name like that before, and he had never used that tone with her before. Obediently, almost unconsciously, she started to walk towards him, eyes downcast. She didn't notice that Matthew had extended his arm to block her path until she hit it, forcing her to stop and look up. He kept his eyes trained on Russia, and from her angle Blanchette thought for a second that his navy coloured eyes had darkened to nigh black. His was a visage of pure seriousness, so much that she nearly shrunk back. She wasn't too sure who she was more afraid of at the moment.

"She's not going anywhere, so take off."

As cold as Russia's stare was, Canada's voice was colder.

"I zink ve should let Marushka decide for herself."

Blanchette just didn't move. She didn't know what to do, and even if she did she was too frightened to even budge an inch. She looked everywhere but at either of her parents. Russia took this as a sign that she wanted to stay with Canada. He frowned. Shit, if he wasn't mad before he was now.

"Very vell. I vill be back in a veek and a half. If Blanchette does not come vith me, Russia vill consider zat a declaration of var."

And with that he turned and left, disappearing down the street without a glance back. Calmly, Matthew closed the door. Blanchette expected the heat to return quickly enough but the hallway would remain cold long after this exchange.

The fear that had been holding Blanchette back suddenly burst, and she couldn't help but run up to Matthew and hug the life out of him, tears running down her cheeks. She didn't really understand why she was crying, only that she needed to.

"Shhhh, _ma belle_, it's alright now. It's ok, there's no need to be afraid anymore, shhhh…"

Her tears gently tapered off, and she just stood there hugging her Papa. Kumajirou had come up to lean against her leg comfortingly. It had been the first time she had seen her Papa like that, so full of hate and hidden rage. But it was a different kind from Russia. From then on, Blanchette had no doubt that Matthew would protect her to the death, even a bloody and painful one at the hands of a cruel and merciless Ivan.


	7. Chapter 7: All Is Fair In Love And War

Tis It Nobler To Drown Or Freeze

Chapter 7:

Blanchette's heart tried to smash its way out of the cage of bone that surrounded it as the plane she was on got closer and closer to the frozen land that was Russia. The man beside her looked at the girl with the utmost disgust, as sweat was dripping from her brow.

"You don't fly much do you?"

He stated in a fashion that suggested he was far superior to anything that would sweat when it was nervous. Blanchette wanted to cut off his balls and shove them deep in the Antarctic snow, but since she had no scissors on her, she settled for a fierce glare. The man was immediately unnerved and went back to sipping his airline champagne and reading his book. Blanche made a face at the drink. She knew good alcohol when she tasted it; after all, she was French-Canadian as well as Russian. The thought of drinking such a vile liquid made her gag. The plane began to descend, and as it did, Blanchette's pulse got higher and higher. She suddenly wished that she had taken her Papa up on his offer to lend her Kumajirou. Having the fluffy warmth of the bear with her would have been a comfort amongst all that made her afraid of the country. The snow however, was a huge help. As long as there was snow, she could survive anything. It made a good insulator, she could drink it if she had to, and she could pack wounds with it should it come to that. That, and her Spetsnaz training would ensure her survival for at least a week if need be. The plane connected abruptly with the ground, sending a shockwave of fear up the blonde's spine, though it was reduced slightly by the satisfying sensation of hearing the man beside her curse avidly. The landing had gotten his champagne all over his '500 euro leather jacket', which brought a Cheshire grin to Blanchette's face.

* * *

"Liet, come here please."

Ivan called from his study, throwing all three of the Baltics into a terror driven panic. Lithuania straightened up his posture and clothing while the other two prayed franticly for his safety. The nation stepped forward into Russia's view, his knees just visibly shaking.

"I need you to pick up Blanchette from ze airport."

The larger man said from his favourite chair. The furnishing, like himself, was tattered and torn. It was a well used piece, one that Russia had sat in to recuperate after many a battle. Liet had often been the one to clean the chair of the blood that would seep from Ivan's wounds and into the fabric. As much as he cleaned it though, it never was fully cleansed. The red chair seemed to glare at him while its master's eyes were cast elsewhere. The blood was seemingly the binding agent between the master of the house and his favourite chair, and even the sight of its crimson cushions were enough to frighten the Baltics, because they could remember a time when those same cushions had been white.

"Of course, sir."

Lithuania answered after a pause of stunned silence.

Russia didn't particularly want Liet to go get Blanchette, the thought of them being alone together made his blood boil in fact. However he needed to run errands, and Blanchette was comfortable around Liet. He wanted her to feel welcome, and after his little standoff with Canada, he figured she would feel more at home if she arrived and was welcomed by a more friendly face.

"Take good care of her."

He said quietly before looking over at Estonia and Latvia.

"You two are going to accompany me."

He said rising from the chair and throwing his coat on. The three Baltics exchanged glances before following their respective orders. Something was definitely up.

* * *

Toris watched the planes descend from the cloudy ceiling just as others climbed up into the grey mass. He had parked just outside the doors of the airport so it was impossible for the pale girl to miss him. He stood up from where he had been leaning against the black vehicle and moved to open the backseat door for Blanchette, only to have her walk around to the other side of the car, open the passenger door and sit down. A little confused but nonetheless obedient, Liet took his place at the wheel and the two drove away.

An awkward silence quickly developed. Lithuania was a little nervous about being around Blanchette again. He didn't want a reoccurrence of that night to result in a reminder of what had happened the day after, if anything for Blanchette's sake since she had obviously been disturbed by it. Liet was pretty used to torture by now, though Russia had been fairly occupied the past few years and he was thankful for the break. He felt the urge to park the car and jump her rising within him (which manifested itself physically as well) and so it was best to keep his mouth shut and his eyes averted. His concentration on the road was bad enough as it was with his thoughts on all the different positions they could get into in the car.

Blanchette took his lack of acknowledgement of her presence a different way. Perhaps he hated her because of what had happened. His body had healed, but trust was another matter altogether. Maybe he was afraid. Of her? Probably not, but of what could happen lest Ivan catch them even holding hands? Probably so. He certainly _looked_ nervous. It made Blanchette feel unwelcomed, as if Toris had just brushed aside their friendship. She felt a stab of pain in her heart. Did she want them to be just friends? Had their kiss been genuine or just a spur of the moment thing?

These thoughts and feelings mixed together to join the emotional whirlwind that was already at work in her mind and heart. She was a little nervous but she just had to know what he was thinking.

"Toris, are we still friends?"

He looked shocked when she asked this and he glanced over at her with a slightly pained expression in his eyes. Blanchette suddenly felt really stupid. Of course they were still friends! How could she doubt that? Liet had been the only one there for her during all her time growing up when she was at Russia's, when Ivan wasn't around himself. Though they had never had much to say to one another, they had always been there for each other on cold and lonely nights. Toris was almost like an older brother to her.

"Of course we are Blanchette. Why wouldn't we be?"

The confirmation of their friendship helped Lithuania push back his desires for her. He remembered the times they had waited together at the windowsill, watching for any hint of the approaching form of a familiar Russian. The times she had fallen and gotten hurt, and he had placed band-aids on her scratches. Even the moments she had called him on his cell phone at 4am to go pick her up from some house party, which, as far as either of them knew, Ivan still had no clue how many times she'd snuck out (he had wondered several times as he dragged himself out of bed if she usually did this when she was at Canada's also). He couldn't help but smile at his memories.

When Blanchette saw him smile, she felt her soul lift up just a little. He didn't hate her. But, did that mean he didn't love her? At least, not how she possibly wanted him to? She supposed she should be happy they were still friends even. The bond that existed between them before hadn't been broken, but Blanchette was still unsure if that's all she wanted. Was the friend Liet enough anymore? She looked over at him. Well, it would have to suffice for now in any case.

They didn't talk after this, but the once awkward silence had been replaced by a comfortable one.

* * *

Blanchette stepped into the mansion. She knew she was nervous, but something just felt wrong about the place. It was a feeling of extreme unwelcome, something that wasn't emanating from the house, Liet, or even a remnant of a feeling that Russia would have left. Ivan had always welcomed her here. This, this was a new but not unfamiliar sensation. One she'd felt only once before. She made her way down the main hallway, searching the rooms for the intruder.

"Auntie?"

She called, hoping an answer wouldn't come.

"Right here, darling."

The voice whispered as a dagger went flying past her ear, nearly shaving it off. Blanchette turned, grabbing the nearest picture off the wall and whipped it at her aunt, who avoided it easily, only to have Blanchette's fist come smashing into her face. The elder nation flew back, shocked at her niece's power. Ivan had obviously trained her since the last time they spoke. Wiping the blood from her nose, Belarus stood, glaring at her younger kin. Realising that she was right beside Ivan's room, Blanchette reached around the corner and grabbed the lead pipe that he always carried into battle. Belarus' eyes widened in dismay.

"How dare you touch his things!"

She roared. Blanchette raised the pipe and charged.

"Get out of my house!"

Belarus blocked her attack, but was unable to strike Blanchette herself as the new knife in her hand was blocked by the pipe. She let out a laugh.

"YOUR house? This is _Ivan's_ house. A pitiful territory like yourself could never amount to anything more than living here. Owning your own place to live? Don't make me laugh."

They broke apart but rushed back at each other, Blanchette roaring in indignation and Natalia smirking at the verbal victory she knew she had achieved. She had wounded the little girl's pride, poured venom into her mind. Now all that was left was to break her body…

* * *

Estonia and Latvia were carrying Ivan's parcels when a strange feeling settled itself into the man's stomach.

It was a terrible feeling, one of mild concern mixed with anger and hatred for anyone who would harm those he loved. It combined a sense of fear, gnawing away at his heart and throat like one of the goblins in the stories he used to tell Blanchette, and panic, which was clawing at the lining of his stomach. His instincts where pushing and urging him to drop whatever he was doing and rush back to the mansion, and be ready for whatever was there.

Naturally, Russia felt this as a mild stomach ache and attributed it to the Golubzy he'd eaten for lunch while pushing the feeling aside. He had more important things to focus on, including finding out what kind of flowers Blanchette liked. Sunflowers? No. She smelt like them, but they were his favourite, not hers. Perhaps roses? Every girl loved roses...

"Are you looking for something special, sir?"

The florist asked, making Ivan's face go red. Something special? Yes, but it wasn't something for humans to know. Especially not this overly cheerful looking blonde girl who could have auditioned as Barbie for a movie and probably gotten the part. If possible, her voice was even girlier and, therefore, more annoying than her appearance. Her nametag said Vicky, and Ivan could easily tell she was American (her Russian was really bad also).

Estonia stepped up, saving Russia from having to garble out words he wasn't sure he wanted anyone else to hear.

"It must be something with meaning. She'll appreciate that more than the colour."

He said, looking through a book of flower meanings the florist had on his shop counter. Ivan looked down just in time to spot Estonia flip past a magnificent violet flower.

"Go back."

He ordered, flipping the page back to reveal a beautiful violet rose. The girl, Vicky, had leaned over the counter to peek at the page. Ivan wanted to slam her face into the countertop.

"The meaning is that the sender has fallen in love with the recipient at first sight."

"Zat's the one."

Ivan said after the florist had read it out. He ordered a dozen, making sure they were wrapped up in paper as protection against the cold.

"Awwww, it's so sweet. You're going to ask the love of your life out on a date, aren't you?"

Ivan gave her a death glare that would rival even Death, though she seemed impervious to negative energies. She reminded him of someone, another annoying, happy-go-lucky blonde…

"OMG, it's just like Twilight! Anyways, make sure you take those right home before they die."

She said, giving Ivan a bit of plant food for later on. He had to walk out as fast as possible after that. He didn't want to make a scene by killing her on site, though it would have been entertaining to set up a camera and record the faces of the policemen who would find her body after getting an anonymous tip.

When they were on the streets once more Ivan looked over at Estonia.

"Zank you."

He said lowly. Latvia nearly tripped when he heard those two words, but Estonia simply smiled at Russia.

"You're very welcome, sir."

* * *

Natalia sat on top of Blanchette, clutching a fistful of near white hair and pulling back on it, making the girl beneath her groan in pain. Blanchette rolled over, smashing the lead pipe into Belarus' shoulder. She let out a howl of pain and tumbled off her captive only to grab a shard of broken glass off the floor and launch it at her niece's face. The young girl covered her face, receiving only a small scratch from the projectile. Getting up, Belarus grabbed a large French knife out of the wooden knife block. Blanchette's eyes widened, but she held her ground. She stood and took up the lead pipe again, gripping it as though her life depended on it, and really it did. Belarus leapt, and Blanchette rolled onto her back, holding Belarus up with the bar. Natalia untangled herself, and brought the knife down to slash across Blanchette's throat. Blanchette was bringing her knees up to flip Belarus off her when an angry Russian came up from behind, grabbing his younger sister by the back of the collar and throwing her to the ground.

"Get out of my house!"

He roared, earning a shocked squeak from Natalia. He picked her up again, fury evident in his violet eyes.

"How dare you even zink about hurt my Marushka!"

"How can you say that, brother! How can she be more important than me? I LOVE you!"

Belarus cried, tears forming in her usually unemotional eyes. There was desperation behind those blue lenses. Ivan looked from Belarus to Blanchette and back again. He didn't want to hear those three words coming from his sister, but the one he _did_ want to say those words to him probably never would.

"Get out, Natalia."

He said, much more softly which disturbed Belarus more than his yelling. She quickly got up and ran out of the mansion without a single glance back, the door swinging open to reveal the icy outdoors.

After a few moments, Russia shut the door gently and turned, wanting to throw his arms around Blanchette and hold her to him for an eternity. Naturally, the look of pure anger on her face shocked him enough to stay put.

"Vhat's wrong, did she hurt you?"

Ivan asked, moving to examine the girl for injuries. When her hand reached out, he thought she was going to hug him, however her palm struck out and left its imprint on the Russian's cheek. Completely shocked, Russia could only watch as Blanchette stomped up the stairs to her room. After the door to her room was slammed shut, all three Baltics looked up at the larger man with an expression that told him he had definitely done something wrong.

"Vhat?"

He asked, looking around at the three others. They all sighed and shook their heads.

"Bring her the flowers and say you're sorry."

Estonia said, pushing up his glasses. When Russia made no move to do anything, Lithuania gave him a little nudge.

"If you don't want to, I'll bring the flowers to her."

That was enough to get Ivan going. He wasn't about to lose his girl to Lithuania. He took up the flowers which he had immediately tossed aside at the sight of the fight, and made his way up the stairs. Both Latvia and Estonia's jaws had dropped at their brother's comment, but Lithuania was seemingly unconcerned.

"He'll thank me for that later."

He said, heading into the kitchen to begin cooking dinner.

* * *

Blanchette slammed the door to her room, grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. That had been her first fight, and her first chance to prove herself as a nation, not just some territory or invaluable colony. The fact that Russia had interfered at the precise moment when she could have shown her true strength, sent her into a rage from which she wouldn't be calmed easily.

Knocking came from the other side of her door, prompting Blanchette to scream out her response.

"What!"

"Blanchette, may I come in?"

Ivan's voice floated softly through the cracks in the door, burrowing into her brain like some infective parasite.

"No! Go away!"

She roared, slamming her fist into the wooden door, making Ivan jump back a bit. He'd never seen Blanchette angry before, not like this, and he had to admit that if she wasn't locked up in her room, it would probably be even scarier than Belarus when she went on one of her marriage rants. Still, he was the man of the house, and his word was law.

"Blanchette, you come out of zere right now."

He said firmly, unsure whether or not he actually wanted her to or not. The silence that followed however, made his heart sink. Great. She hated him.

"Vhat's wrong, Blanchette?"

The silence stretched out for what seemed like an eternity before he heard a muffled answer.

"I don't need your help. I can handle my own fights."

"Marushka... You don't have to prove yourself. You're strong, I know you are. You are ze daughter of two great nations, built on snow and blood. You are no less a nation zan us."

He said, and with that he went to his study once more to be in the comfort of his favourite chair, leaving the bundle of flowers on the floor near the door.

Blanchette's eyes were red and puffy, and the pillow she'd screamed into was being squished into her chest, wet at the top from salty tears. She slid down to a sitting position with her back to the door, knees propped up to better crush the unoffending cushion.

She was so confused. She hated him for what he did to her Papa. She hated him for coming between her and Belarus. She hated him for being cruel to Lithuania. She loved him though for no reason at all, and that infuriated her. Then again, she had slapped him. That had actually been a bit of a surprise to herself. Normally she didn't get so mad, and even then, Ivan had taught her to control herself. The teen got up and opened the door, feeling the temperature in the room beginning to drop below a comfortable level. She wouldn't have noticed the flowers on the floor had she not smelled them first. She gently picked up the package and unpeeled the brown paper that had been used to protect them. Blanchette almost dropped the roses when she remembered the meaning behind the vibrant colour. Placing them on her bed she took up the card that had been placed delicately in their midst. It took her a bit more time to decipher the Russian than usual, but that was simply because her eyes were beginning to sting.

_Marushka, I have loved you since the day I brought you home._

She read the card out loud, but, sufficing to say, this only confused the girl more. Mattie told her that he loved her almost every day, could this just be a form of fatherly love from Ivan? The kiss she'd received from him a week ago didn't seem to support that theory, however Ivan was one of the more unpredictable nations. In fact his name was right up there with America and China. The young girl sat down and inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of her roses before going to find a vase for them.

* * *

Ivan tossed and turned in his bed, unable to get sleep to come to him, or Blanchette for that matter. He didn't know what to do when he noticed she'd found the flowers. He couldn't be sure if she'd liked them or just thrown them in the trash. Either way, it was nerve racking. Having been lying awake most of the night, Ivan's senses were heightened enough to detect tiny footsteps making their way towards his room. Panicking, he pulled the covers over himself and pretended to be asleep. He wasn't sure exactly what that would accomplish, but he did it anyways. As he thought, Blanchette's footsteps stopped at his door, and with a creak of the old door, she began tip toeing her way across the room to his bed.

"Ivan?"

She asked, sitting on the bed beside him. He could feel her shivering, though he wasn't sure if it was from the cold, fear, or something else.

"Da, lyubov' moya?"

He asked, turning to lie on his back. He looked up into her violet eyes, which looked slightly puffy.

"Vhat's the matter? Vhy have you been crying?"

He asked, sitting up. She looked like she was going to start crying all over again.

"Ivan, I'm so sorry. I know I hit you and I know I overreacted but I'm really cold. Oh, and thank you for the flowers by the way. They're lovely, really, but my room is an icicle and-"

She was cut off by Ivan pushing a finger to her lips. He hushed her and drew her in close.

"Pozvol'te mne teplo vam."

He took her chin and guided her lips to his, sealing them in a sweet kiss. He pulled away, making sure she didn't have any sort of negative emotion on her face. He then cupped her face and once more initiated a kiss, this one more passionate. His tongue glided smoothly over hers, earning a small pleasure sound that was eagerly swallowed up. The young girl nearly melted in his arms when they coiled around her, his talented hands massaging her upper and lower back.

Her hand went up to entangle itself in the Ivan's hair while her other went to the bed, supporting her as she moved from beside him, to straddle his hips. Her confidence made Ivan smirk into the kiss, and grind his hips upward causing her to whimper just slightly. She pulled away slightly, causing Ivan to panic. He'd scared her. He kept his cool, trying to appear as though this was all normal. Slowly, with trembling fingers, she took hold of the shirt that Ivan had been sleeping in and pulled it up over his head. Flinging it aside, Blanchette ran her hands down his numerous scars, the small bumps and grooves accentuated by the glow of the firelight behind her.

In one swift motion, Ivan had her by the waist and was laying her beneath him without her even knowing what happened. Her heart raced as he descended, placing delicate kisses along her jaw line and her neck, paying extra attention to the hollow at her collarbone. Her shirt came off, revealing her breasts, which Ivan stroked lovingly while locking his lips to hers. Her breath was getting erratic as his hand moved down to her stomach and finally her hips. Her body trembled, and the psychological thrill of taking her virgin territory was beginning to seep into Ivan's mind. The pants she had worn to bed were slid down slowly to reveal his prize. Looking down at Blanchette's face, however, made him realise that she was not ready for all this. No matter though, she would be begging for it by the time he was through.

Starting at her delicate feet, he kissed and massaged his way up her right leg until she was quivering with anticipation. He sat and waited until the tremors subsided before working his way up her left leg.

"Ivan..."

She moaned as he waited for the new tremors to end. When they had he took hold of her ass and lifted it, flicking his tongue over her clit before he buried his face in her warmth.

Having never experienced that before, Blanchette's knuckles whitened as they gripped the sheets, the new sensation driving her mad. She squirmed as his wet muscle threatened to invade her but never did. She was so close, she could feel it, but he wouldn't let her climax just yet, and he needed her pleasure to be as high as it could go before he introduced himself in a rather painful manner.

Removing his face, he rubbed his fingers against her folds before he slid a finger into her. A cry escaped her lips as he thrust in slowly, carefully and steadily. Her body was frozen, her eyes revealing the discomfort and pain she was in though she smiled up at him. She was trying so hard to be brave. He continued to pull the appendage in and out of her until he was sure she could handle a bit more. Removing his finger, he waited until she had calmed a bit, her body shaking slightly though from pain or desire, he wasn't sure. He crawled on top of her, placing delicate kisses along her body as he went until finally he rested a bit of his weight over her, using his elbows to prop himself up.

"Do you vant zis Marushka?"

Ivan asked, moving a strand of hair from his girl's face. She could feel the heat and weight of his body pressing down on her, her skin on fire as it touched his, wanting him even though her lower half throbbed in pain. Blanchette reached up and kissed him firmly, while Ivan positioned himself. Slowly, she felt her cavity stretch. Her heart raced as he groaned, her tight heat engulfing him completely. Blanche screamed in pain, unable to contain it any longer. He waited a moment for her to get used to it, but there was no getting used to the sting. Her last coherent thought before pain became her world was this: she was no longer a virgin, and it didn't matter if he pulled back out and never touched her again, she had still lost her virginity to Ivan Braginski.

Ivan tried to be gentle with her, though this was rather difficult considering his large size. He hated to see tears well up in her eyes, but he couldn't stop now. As much as he wanted this moment to last forever, he was determined to lessen her pain as much as possible. Russia's only choice was to finish quickly, and so he sped up in order to reach his climax faster. When he did, he felt like he was in heaven but had to remind himself to pull out as soon as he was done.

As for Blanchette, she could barely feel anything past the pain, each new thrust another stabbing sting through her system. She was relieved when Ivan finished after what felt like forever and moved to lie down beside her. Her body was still wracked by pain but it steadily faded away to be replaced with a tiredness. She couldn't move her body so instead she turned her head and caught Ivan staring at her with dreamy eyes and a satisfied smile. She managed to smile back weakly, the tears drying on her face.

He moved closer to cuddle her seeing as how she cringed from pain when he tried to move her closer. When they were both comfortable, he whispered in her ear, ever so softly as the light spring breeze.

"Spokoinoi nochi, Marushka."

Unable to trust herself to speak, Blanchette could only mouth the words she longed to say.

_I love you, Ivan._

They fell asleep with smiles playing upon their lips.

* * *

Translation Notes:

Da, lyubov' moya? – yes, my love?

Pozvol'te mne teplo vam – Let me warm you

Spokoinoi nochi - Goodnight

This is a small notification that Blaklite is writing a story about Blanchette's creation, so for those fans who were looking for some Russia on Canada, that's the story for you.


	8. Chapter 8: Love, Peace, And Epic Fights

The maple syrup exited its container noisily as Matthew emptied the last few drops onto his waffle. He had many bottles still in his pantry, but maple syrup wasn't something he was fond of wasting. Prussia let out a yawn as he entered the kitchen, a breakfast of bacon, waffles, fruit, sausages, eggs, and many other things laid out on the table. Normally, Gil would have smirked, and commented on how much of a beast the Canadian had been the night before. Today however, the look of worry on his face demanded a bit more tact from the usually blunt German. Gilbert sat down at the table and began to dig in, knowing that Matthew would speak if something was truly bothering him. Canada was just about to take a bite out of his bacon when it happened. Russia's border expanded, and slammed into his own northern extremities. Fire spread through his veins and blazed in his eyes. Matthew didn't even bother putting on a coat; he simply grabbed his hockey stick and ran out the door, evidently unaware or more probably unconcerned that he wasn't wearing shoes, socks, or anything other than his jeans, a black T-shirt and his glasses. Assuming that his wasn't one of Matthews spurs where he absolutely had to play hockey for some given reason, Gilbert picked up the phone and dialled his brother.

"Ja?"

Ludwig answered.

"Bruder, I neet your help."

* * *

Dull, throbbing pain was what woke Blanchette from an otherwise pleasant sleep. The sheets clung to her hips while her upper body lay exposed to the warm dry air above. She stretched, revealing to herself that she had a tender spot in her hips that would rather not be stretched today thank you very much. Recoiling slightly, she instead decided to turn and face her lover, a smile gracing her lips that was made just for him. It was wiped clean from her face however, when she noticed Ivan wasn't there. Panicking for just a quick moment, she touched the spot where he had fallen asleep alongside her last night. It was still warm, meaning he had only just recently left. Perhaps some important business had come up, or he had gotten really hungry and decided to have breakfast without her. She had no idea how late in the day it was, for all she knew it could have been three in the afternoon.

In any case, she had to get up and find out what happened to Ivan. Last night hadn't been a mistake. Ivan loved her for real, didn't he? Blanche knew he could be cold and heartless but never with her, right? Something had come up, that was all.

Getting out of bed was the tricky part. It stung to move but she so desperately needed to locate the big Russian. Blanchette almost missed the glass of water and the bottle of pain killers sitting on the nightstand. She quickly downed the water and a few pills, and waited impatiently for the pills to kick in. Whoa, maybe she had taken one too many as the pain not only subsided and nearly disappeared but she began to feel numb. Willing herself to move, Blanche scooted to the edge of the bed…and just sat there. This was going to take a while…

* * *

Downstairs, Lithuania was having his breakfast and reading the morning paper when the loud and regal sounding doorbell was rung. Strangely, he could never recall hearing the doorbell ring. Those who lived in the mansion just let themselves in. Nobody else really ever came calling; he suspected they never dared.

Upon opening the door, he looked down to see a small, tanned girl with pig tails held together by peach coloured ribbons.

"Can I help you?"

He asked, slightly confused as to who this girl was.

"I'm here to see Blanchette Williams."

She said with a sweet smile. Toris raised an eyebrow, but let her in, and led her forward towards the upstairs where Blanchette lay. Quite frankly he didn't want to let her in there, but it wasn't like he was going to pain Blanchette to get up to see a guest. Then again, he could have just sent her away, but somehow that smile had been as convincing as one of Blanchette's own. Time seemed to drag out before they found themselves before Ivan's room. Just when he was about to leave there was another knock at the door before he heard the tell-tale sound of it being blasted to smithereens.

* * *

Just as she was attempting to get out of bed for the millionth time, the commotion reached Blanchette's ears and the door to the room was flung open. The young girl that entered then began to gather her clothing.

"Aunt Seychelles! What are you doing here?"

Blanchette cried as her belongings were tossed at her.

"No time to explain, just get dressed. Vite! Prese, prese!"

"What's going on!"

Lithuania roared, blocking the exit so that neither girl could escape.

"Don't make me hurt you!"

Seychelles screamed, pulling a dagger from her sleeve, the handle of which resembled some kind of fish, as something crashed and shattered downstairs. Several cracks could be heard from downstairs, causing Blanche to begin dressing as fast as she could. Alarmed, Lithuania abandoned the girls and went to check on his master, giving Seychelles a chance to drag Blanchette away, deep into the house.

* * *

Estonia, who had been in the study dusting off shelves, came running through the kitchen when he heard the door explode, and was immediately brought down by a very angry Canuck.

"Where is he!"

The blond demanded of his captive. Estonia stuttered, not knowing what to say. An even angrier repetition of the question brought the words to his mouth.

"North! He headed North!"

He managed. This seemed to bring Matthew some satisfaction, along with more hate to fuel his rampage.

"Thank you."

He said, and, had Estonia had time to register Mattie's tone before he was pounced on again, he would have noticed that the thanks was indeed genuine. Unfortunately, his red eyed attacker had no intention of letting him register anything but pain as he began throwing fist after fist into his gut. Estonia dislodged several things from the counter, the first two being knives that sliced into Prussia's ear and arm, causing a scream of pain that was silenced by the third object, a skillet, smashing into the back of the Prussian's head. It gave Estonia enough time to shove the now extremely dizzy Gilbert off him, and run for the larger knife block.

"Can you handle this Gil?" Asked the Canadian as he steadied his Prussian lover.

"Ja, I dink so. I brought your uniform just in case. Id's in de front hall."

Canada smiled and kissed Gilbert's cheek.

"See you later for supper." And he left the kitchen.

Lithuania was next to join the fray. Aiming to help Estonia, he only got as far as the foyer before he was snagged by the collar and dragged away by a pair of strong arms. His hands were held behind his back while England stepped in front of him, and took him by the tie.

"NEVER mess with our family."

He growled in a dangerously low tone, before giving him a few good throws to the gut, the spiked knuckle dusters tearing at his insides with each blow. The bloodied nation managed to lift his leg for a kick, but England stopped his attempts with a knee to the groin.

"Pin his legs."

He ordered, receiving a

"D'acc."

From whom Lithuania could only assume was Francis. His legs were wrapped painfully around Francis' own, and he was forced upwards, into a kneeling position, his back to Francis' chest so that he couldn't retreat away from any of the devastating blows England was in the middle of delivering.

While all this was happening, Seychelles continued to drag Blanchette through Ivan's house, passing doorway after doorway, until finally she stopped just short of the back of the building.

"We're here."

She said, pressing her finger to her ear.

"Stand back."

She said to Blanchette, before the wall before them was blasted open with a force that knocked both girls clean off their feet. When the smoke, dust and debris cleared, Alfred, Ludwig and Feliciano came through the hole.

"Vee~ Blanca! Good to see you!"

Italy pulled her up and kissed both her cheeks.

"Feli, what's going on? Where's Ivan? Why are you doing this?"

She asked, looking from him to her uncle, to Lud.

"You're comin' with us."

Al said as Germany picked her up and flung her over his shoulder. Immediately the girl began to fight.

"No! Where's Ivan! Let me down, he's in trouble!"

"Ve know."

Ludwig said simply.

"We're taking you somewhere safe, Blanca. You don't want a life with him, you could have everything you want back in Canada, with your family. It's where you belong."

Italy said softly, looking up at her with sympathetic eyes. Alfred looked up at her just in time to see her violet eyes turn as cold and menacing as those of the man she was being taken away from.

"He's my family, too."

She said, and smashed her elbow into the back of Ludwig's head. She continued to do so until he dropped her. If she tried to run back to the hole in the wall, her aunt and uncle would simply catch her. Deciding quickly, she bolted for the nearest window and jumped through, landing in the snow exactly as she had been taught. She silently thanked whatever god out there that the people who had followed her weren't used to the harsh winters she was. Her legs had grown strong enough to plough through enumerable feet of snow, and she was experienced enough to know where not to step so her feet wouldn't get caught. It was all too easy to outrun her family and make her way to the front steps.

Upon re-entering the building, she found Toris being beaten by Arthur and Francis, and in the kitchen, Gilbert had a chokehold on Estonia. Grabbing the skillet that had been cast aside in Gilbert's struggle to keep Estonia under control, she raised the makeshift weapon and brought it crashing down on Estonia's head.

"Goot girl- BlaAH!"

Gil cried out as the frying pan was then sent sideways into his forehead.

"Sorry Gil!"

She called back as she ran to help Toris. With both men unconscious, she hoped Francis would drag Gil away before he could wake up and kill Eduard. Swinging the skillet again, she smashed the back of Arthur's head and sent him flying up and over both Toris and Francis.

"Sorry!"

She cried desperately.

"Merde! Good hit!"

Francis said in awe as he watched his husband slump to the floor.

"Where's Ivan and Papa?"

She asked, raising the frying pan towards the already bloodied Lithuanian.

"I don't know about Matthew, but Ivan's heading north. He... he took his pipe with him."

He said, desperately trying to catch his breath.

"Pepe, I need Toris' help to save Papa. Can you bring everyone to a hospital?"

She asked panting, out of breath and in shock from clobbering her own family members.

Francis nodded, helping Toris to his feet. Nearly tripping over her own feet, Blanchette ran from the house, starting her trek towards her own land. Almost forgetting that Lithuania was hurt, she looked back to see him not only running with her as though uninjured, but he was also holding on to a sheathed sword in one hand. The belt hung loose, the scabbard depicted battles and other Lithuanian symbols, and the cross guard had been decorated with six stones on both sides, a pattern of yellow topazes on the outside, emeralds in the middle, and dark red garnets closest to the hidden blade. It would be a formidable weapon in skilled hands.

Noticing her stare, Toris thought it appropriate to make brief introductions.

"This is Bebaimiškumas, my most trusted friend. She has remained with me through many battles over the past few centuries. Her name means courage."

"Liet…how come you never told me you were such a badass?"

He chuckled at this. "Because I thought I'd lost my spark. But I guess old habits die hard."

And they began to trot off north through the snow with Blanchette leading the way. The cold wind stung her cheeks but it was nowhere near the chill that was creeping into her heart.

* * *

It didn't take them long to spot the tall Russian standing amidst the flatness of the plain of ice all around him. He stood on the border between Canadian and Russian territory. He was also surprisingly close to the edge of an ice cliff, which plummeted just under three-hundred meters into the freezing Arctic Sea below. Certain death, at least for mere mortals.

"Ivan!"

Blanchette cried, running up to her father-turned-lover, Liet in tow. Ivan's head whipped around to look at her as she approached. His gaze became panicked, yet his strong voice remained calm.

"Go home, Marushka."

"Fuck you!"

She yelled back, and three seconds later she slammed into his unyielding form and wrapped her protected arms as tightly as she could around him.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Marushka…"

She felt his large hand caress the back of her head softly before she was quickly pushed away. It was in that moment of falling that she first heard the bang, and then saw blood explode from Ivan's chest. As she hit the ice, he fell also to his knees, clutching at the hole in his left shoulder.

"Shit!"

Blanchette scrambled to her feet to inspect his wound. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't pry away his fingers.

"Ivan, let go."

He was staring off to the left, towards enemy territory.

"Ivan, I need to check the bullet wound. Ivan!"

But nothing she did could distract that immovable gaze. She gave up and instead followed his line of sight. Her blood froze in its course through her veins.

* * *

"What do you think, Kuma, ten points?"

Asked the Canadian while he manually extracted the spent 7.62x51mm NATO round from his C3A1 and chambered another.

"Eight."

"Eight? Come on, I got him right through the shoulder."

"It was too high."

"Well, it wouldn't be fun if I killed him right away, now would it?"

But the bear remained unimpressed. Canada frowned, folding up the gun's bipod.

"Everyone's a critic."

And the two got up and started walking. It took barely any time at all for the pair to calmly cross the one-thousand meter stretch to where Canada's quarry lay kneeling.

"Blanchette, it's time to go home with Papa."

"She's not going anyvhere vith you."

Russia unsteadily got to his feet. His shoulder still bled, though it had slowed to a trickle. It was then that Ivan realized that he wasn't the same nation he had been a hundred years ago. Unfortunately, Canada had caught sight of this revelation as well.

"And why would she stay with you? You're too weak to even defend yourself."

The verbal jab prompted Ivan to reach into his coat, signaling for Matthew to do the same. Both nations drew out a pistol. In Ivan's left hand was his lead pipe, and from somewhere unseen, Matthew had pulled out a hockey stick. The two seemed evenly matched, one would even say that Russia's height and muscle gave him the advantage, but Russia knew this was not the case. Still, Ivan wouldn't, couldn't' give up.

"She stays because I love her, and she loves me."

"Bastard!"

Canada swung the hockey stick at Ivan's head while aiming to shoot him in the gut with his 9 mil pistol. Ivan parried the stick with his gun arm and brought around the pipe to hook it around the barrel of Canada's gun and forcibly toss it aside. Wasting no time to even feel shock, Matthew quickly drew a hunting knife from a side pocket and, after distracting Ivan with a feint to the knees with the hockey stick, spun to slice at Ivan's hand causing him to drop the gun. In one smooth move, Matthew tucked in the hockey stick as he continued the spin to nail Ivan in the gut with the butt of the makeshift weapon. Russia doubled-over from the blow and before he could react any further, he felt a gloved hand grasp at his hair. His vision was cut out mere nanoseconds later as he was swiftly kneed in the face and sent tumbling onto his side on the ice. Blood poured forth from his no-doubt broken nose to stain the pure white surface beneath him.

"Ivan, no!"

Just before the two had drawn their weapons, Lithuania had had the sense to pull Blanchette away from the scene. She had let herself be dragged along for the few seconds that the twp had fought, but as Ivan fell to the ground, she had struggled with all her strength. Liet could barely hold on anymore. Fuck, were territories usually this strong?

"Blanchette, it's not safe!"

"Let go, Toris. IVAN!"

She could only watch helplessly from the sidelines as Russia was dragged to his knees by his hair. The pipe had been flung aside by Canada to land near the 9 mil. Canada himself now held onto Russia's previously discarded Makarov, hockey stick and knife tucked safely within the confines of his coat.

Russia had lost, and this defeat was accented by the barrel of his own gun which had been placed at his forehead.

"How could you, Ivan?"

"I deed vhat you could not do."

"You had sex with your daughter. With _our_ daughter!"

"How long do you zink she vould have lasted as contested territory? How long before she simply stopped exeesting? You _know_ vhat happens to a nation born in pieces. Left unclaimed, she vould have died, even eef you or I owned the entirety of the Arctic."

Staring unwaveringly into Canada's ice cold eyes, Russia saw them soften for a moment, finally accepting a fact he had refused to acknowledge. But the truth could not erase the pain.

"This does not absolve you of your actions of breaking the ceasefire and occupying Canadian owned Arctic territory."

With one hand, Matthew undid the top half of his coat, revealing the blood-soaked left side of his torso. The red liquid had gotten through every layer but the coat, past uniform shirts and bandages. The source appeared to have been in the area of his heart.

"And for all the pain you've caused me, I think it's time you get what you deserve."

Tossing the Makarov aside, Canada drew out the hunting knife and walked behind Russia. Ivan was prepared for that final blow that would signify the end but was entirely surprised when he felt the cold blade against his forehead, above where the gun had been pointing, followed by a firm and slightly painful grasp in his hair.

"You know, when the European settlers first arrived in the New World, they were told that for every Indian scalp they brought back, they would receive payment. The peoples of the tribes saw what the white menace was doing to their brethren, slaughtering the living and defiling the dead, and all for the sake of money. In their rage and hatred, they sought their vengeances in the same manner. Unfortunately for the white man, sometimes they forgot to kill their victims first."

Ivan could sense Matthew lean in closer.

"Consider this my revenge, as you watch me walk away with the Arctic forever."

"AAAAARGH!"

"STOP THIS!"

In her blind desperation to keep anymore blood from being spilled, Blanchette ignored the great surge of power that ran through her like a dam breaking. The only thought running in her panicked mind was to get her Papa away from Ivan. And that strange force within her seemed to understand her intentions.

A crack raced through the ice, coming between Canada and Russia, and wound its way back around behind Canada. The ice within this boundary shifted and Matthew quickly found himself falling through the broken ice towards the Arctic Sea beneath. At the last moment, he stabbed the knife into the top of the ice shelf, legs dangling over a watery death (not that it could really kill him though). Kumajirou immediately ran up and began tugging at his jacketed arm to try and pull him up.

Looking up, all Matthew could see was the tallest man he'd even known pointing a Makarov directly at him, a thin trail of blood flowing down the side of his face.

"I guess ze tables have turned, comrade."

Canada saw his finger coil tighter around the trigger…

"NO!"

And then Blanchette was kneeling before him, trying to pull her father back onto solid ice.

"Marushka, move."

"No! This has to stop. I love you both far too much to lose either of you. Is it really so bad having to share?"

"Blanchette…"

"Non, Papa. I'm tired of the fighting. Is it too much to ask for peace?"

The two opposing nations regarded each other for what felt like eternity to Blanchette. Why should they listen to a young nation like her? That's when Ivan put away the Makarov and reached out for Canada's hand. Matthew let go of the hunting knife still lodged in place and grabbed the hand Russia offered, who then proceeded to help lift him up and get him back on his feet.

"Russia demands zat at least half of ze Arctic formally become Russian territory."

"Canada demands the same. And to honour this agreement, I suggest that every four months, Blanchette should visit the other nation presiding over her…errr, icemass."

The two shook and as they let go, Matthew quickly found himself tackle hugged, almost falling once more through the gap in the ice.

"Merci, Papa. Je t'appellerai chaque semaine."

"Tu le dois, ou j'enverrai l'armée de te rapporter au Canada."

Looking over Blanchette's shoulder with all seriousness, he continued.

"Take care of her, or you'll wish you had died today."

Ivan could only nod as Blanchette rejoined his side and Canada turned around to leave, but not before reclaiming the knife, pistol, and Kuma. Luckily, the gap wasn't too wide and the two jumped across safely (not that Matt couldn't do it, just that Kumajirou weighed a lot for his small size). Before long, Blanchette and Ivan found themselves alone on the ice.

Well, not entirely.

"Vhere's Lizuania?"

"Oh, about that…"

The pair looked back to the still in pain Toris, curled up in a ball on his side.

"I had to hit him _hard_ in the balls to get him to let me go."

Ivan's sigh could not but betray the pride he felt. Picking up his lead pipe which had lain forgotten through the second half of the battle, he picked up the stricken Lithuania and the three began to make their way back to Ivan's house.

The silence stretched on for several minutes, the crunch of snow and ice the only sound to be heard for miles around.

"Matvey vill not be happy eef you stay vith me, and I won't be happy eef you stay vith him. You probably von't be happy eizer vay. Is zis really vhat you vant?"

Blanchette sighed and thought for a long while before answering.

"I remember you telling me something when I was barely a year old. You said that if I ever fell through the ice, that I would die no matter what I did. If I didn't do anything I would drown, but if I pulled myself up I would freeze. You said it was very important that I pulled myself up, because even if death was certain, it was nobler to die fighting than to simply let myself go."

She said, looking him square in the eyes.

"I'm staying with you, Ivan. Papa will accept that, in time."

She said firmly, earning a smile from the battle-worn Russian. Before, it had just been a game, something to get more land for his vast empire. He had wanted her for selfish reasons then, and he wanted her for selfish reasons now, but his motive had changed dramatically. He needed her, simply because. There was no reason to it; he just had to have her there. He wanted her to know that somehow.

"Ya tebya lyublyu, Marushka."

He said to her, causing her face to light up like the sun.

"I love you, too, Ivan."

Lacing her arm around Ivan's, she dragged him down just enough to be able to stand on tip toe and place a soft kiss on his cheek. As they continued walking, Blanchette noticed a slight pinkish-hue spread across his face, and she knew it wasn't because of the cold.

She thought of nothing but him and all the time they would have together all the way home. And yet, she couldn't help feeling as if she had forgotten something. She quickly dismissed this thought as unimportant, as there was surely nothing else more important than being with Russia in this perfect moment.

Meanwhile, back at the mansion, Latvia was sitting in the corner of his room, bound and gagged by peach coloured ribbons, wondering when anyone would finally notice he was missing.

* * *

Blaklite and I would like to apologise for the late update. We have been very busy, but we worked extra hard to make this chapter as epic as we could. We hope you enjoy it!


	9. Epilogue

Tis It Nobler To Drown Or Freeze

Epilogue: A Lesson in Geometry

"Tu sais, it's a little ironic."

"Vhat is?"

The two men sat on a bench across the hall from the scene they were watching unfold. It was the same scene that played after every such visit, like a series of bad romance novels in which the stories were different, but each time the guy always got the girl at the end. In a way, it was both true and false. Though Canada had to let go and say good-bye to his precious daughter for another four months, Russia, her lover, would acquire her during that time. And loyal to the script, Matthew was busy fretting over Blanchette even when she only had ten minutes to board her plane. But such were the ways of parents; they just HAD to know that _you_ knew the exact contents of your toothpaste bottle to make sure you hadn't somehow accidentally left a few millimeters at home.

Gilbert could only smile each time. His boyfriend was so adorable in parent mode, acting every inch the mother he was inside. But Prussia was also smiling in anticipation for the four months the two would have alone again…

He turned his head to look at the Frenchman beside him, at least pretending that what Francis had to say was getting past all the ideas the red-eyed man was thinking up for that first night. Like everything else about this departure scene, Francis always managed to show up to say his farewells to the girl as well. He had been staying in a hotel near their house for the past week, showing up bright and early every morning with something planned so he could spend time with Blanchette before she left. No one saw her much during the four months she was away, unless she accompanied Ivan to meetings. It was likely that France would leave soon as well, not willing to risk his life in disturbing the other two during their private time. Funny enough, he always took a British flight.

"Blanchette's story is a lot like that of the Greek goddess Persephone, is it not?"

Oh right, the long-haired blonde was still talking.

"I am not as knowledgeable in Ancient Greek mythology as you are, Francis, since I am not de one who stole paintings and sculptures from all ofer de vorld just to put dem on display. Please, enlighten me, if you vould."

Prussia said in a tone that was intended to let the Frenchman know that he gave not one fuck as to what he was talking about. Not because he hated the man, no they were quite good friends, something that hadn't changed over hundreds of years. It was just that Gilbert was far more content in letting his mind wander onto more pleasurable thoughts, such as leaning over a very hot and bothered naked Canadian before lifting up that tight, little ass just enough to comfortably thrust deep inside, listening closely to his lover's loud, shaky moans and his own forced pants…

But Francis wasn't the kind to take a hint.

"Persephone was the daughter of the earth goddess Demeter. She was much sought after by the other male gods, but Demeter kept her away from the Olympians and hid her from their charms. One day, however, she was abducted by Hades, god of the underworld. Demeter was so distraught that she searched endlessly for her daughter and neglected her duties to the earth which slowly had begun to die. The Olympians became concerned with the state of the world, and Zeus sent the god Hermes to retrieve Persephone from the Underworld. But Hades had tricked her into eating the seeds of a pomegranate: she was doomed to remain attached to the Underworld forever. Hades finally released Persephone, on the agreement that she would return to him every winter. When Persephone and Demeter were re-united, the earth came back to life and the land was blessed with summer. But still, every winter Persephone must return to the Underworld, to Hades, and leave her mother."

"…Dat's great, Francis."

"Pah! You thick-headed wurst lover, I'm trying to explain a parallel here!"

At that, Gilbert snorted.

"In case you hafen't noticet, Frenchy, dere is a flaw in your 'parallel'. First of all, de four months Blanchette is gone is noding close to doom and gloom, quite the opposite in fact." A 'kesesese' emerged here. "Second, Blanchette actually _likes_ the bastard, though I still don't unterstand vhy or how anyone could like dat monster…"

"C'est l'amour~."

Said Francis, blowing a kiss into the air.

"Lofe is a foreign concept to dat commie fucker."

"Even villains get lonely, Gilbert."

The Prussian snorted again, disbelievingly. Francis could only glare at him, for he knew his friend would never surrender his opinion.

"I suppose it's whatever makes Blanchette happiest at this point. We can do nothing else for her but support her decisions."

"Vell, for de Russian's sake, I hope she makes goot ones."

Stated Prussia, watching Matthew reluctantly hug his daughter for the last time. He knew that should Ivan do one little thing to make Blanchette tear up even the slightest, Canada would be over in a pinch beating the shit out of him. Gilbert was glad that he wasn't in Russia's spot at the moment. You do not want a pissed off Canuck on your ass no matter what the reason, period.

The two remained sitting on the bench in silence for the rest of their duration in the airport. Matt solemnly watched the plane lift off and disappear into the clouds, standing at the big windows long after the aircraft had lifted off. It was only after he had gotten over the moment and had returned to where his lover and father had been chatting that the three decided it was a good time to leave.

They stopped at Francis's hotel to drop him off before speeding away back home before the Frenchman could suggest a get-together that night. The couple had something else entirely different planned already.

Oh yes, four months was worth the wait for Prussia, as it always guaranteed four great months afterward.


End file.
